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L  I  E)  R.ARY 

OF  THL 

U  N  IVERSITY 

or    ILLINOIS 

82.3 

C555b 
v.  I 


THE  BEAUCLEECS 

FATHER  AND   SON. 

%  iofel 


CHARLES  CLARKE, 

AUTHOR  OF   "(JUAKLIE  THORNHILL,"    "WHICH   IS  THE   WINNEH,"   &C.   &C. 


IN  THREE  VOLUMES. 

VOL.  I. 


LONDON: 
CHAPMAN  AND  HALL,  193,  PICCADILLY. 

1867. 


\ 


LONDON : 
I'mNTKI)  I5Y  C.  "WHITING,  BEAUFOKT  HOUSE,  STKAND. 


.'I 


jj  CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  I. 


0) 


CHAPTEE  I.  PAGE 

Eaely  Patronage       .        .       ' •*■ 

CHAPTER  II. 
Xaval  Engagement 1^ 

CHAPTER  III. 
The  Colvilles  or  LT:\iiiEKSFiELD        .        .        .        .40 

-  CHAPTER  IV. 

>•     ]MoTHEiiLESS  Children ^^ 

-^  CHAPTER  Y. 

"^    I\Iada3ie  Roseneels ^^ 

<^ 

>^  CHAPTER  YI. 

r^     Prank  becomes  a  Man S9 

*N 

t^  CHAPTER  YII. 

L-    A  Real  Woman 1^^ 


r 


IV  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  VIII.  ,.AGR 

A  New  Acquaintance 142 

CHxYPTER  IX. 
A  Pic-Nic 163 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Boating  Pakty 1S5 

CHAPTER  XI. 
Violet's  Trustees 196 

CHAPTER  XII. 
Our  Village 214 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
Just  Joined 231 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  Transplantation 201 


THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 


CHAPTER  I. 

EAELY  PATRONAGE. 

consuefacere  filium 

Sua  sponte  recte  facere,  quam  alieno  metu. 
Hoc  Pater  ac  Dominus  interest. 

Terence's  Adelphi. 

"  Who's  that,  Dobbs,  in  the  well-made  trousers 
and  tight  jacket  ?  " 

"  Young  Beauclerc,  a  lower-form  boy :  he  came 
this  half,"  said  Dobbs,  in  reply  to  his  friend 
Carloss's  inquiry. 

"  Whose  house  is  he  in  ?  " 

"Purser's,  I  believe;  looks  sharp  set,  doesn't 
he?" 

"  No ;  I  don't  see  it,  Dobbs  ;  he's  a  deuced  neat 
little  fellow ;    by  Jove,  how  well  his  jacket  fits 

VOL.  I.  B 


2  THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

him !  Young  swell,  I  should  tliink,  by  tlic  look  of 
him,"  added  Carloss;  "I'm  going  to  make  his 
acquaintance." 

"  How  do  you  propose  to  do  that  ?  "  inquired 
Dobson,  who  was  prepared  for  some  eccentricity, 
from  his  knowledge  of  his  companion. 

"  You'll  see.  Hallo  !  you  fellow,  Beauclerc  ! " 
The  little  fellow  turned  round,  and  disclosed  a 
face  quite  in  keeping  with  the  smartness  of  his 
fimire.     "  Come  here  a  moment." 

Beauclerc  came  towards  the  two  boys,  looking 
fearlessly  up  in  their  faces ;  he  had  hardly  had 
time  to  realise  the  profound  dignity  of  a  sixth- 
form  boy,  or  he  might  have  looked  more  abashed. 

"  What  form  are  you  in  ?  "  said  Carloss. 

"The  shell,"  said  the  little  fellow,  cheerfully 
and  undauntedly. 

"  Where  were  you  before  you  came  here  ? " 
inquired  his  interrogator. 

"Nowhere  at  all,"  said  he,  understanding  the 
question  to  apply  to  school. 

"  Was  it  a  nice  place  ?  " 

The  boy  laughed,  and  showed  dimples  that  are 
only  becoming  to  women  and  schoolboys. 

"  How  often  did  they  flog  there  ?  "     No  answer. 


EARLY  PATEOXAGE.  6 

"  Come,  out  witli  it,  like  a  man.     Twice  a  week? 
or  only  every  ^Monday  prospectively  ?  " 

'^  I  was  at  a  private  tutor's."  And  as  he  drew 
up  liis  neat  little  figm-e  and  handsome  face  it  was 
quite  clear  that  he  meant  to  impress  his  auditors 
with  a  sense  of  the  superiority  of  that  system  of 
education. 

"  Oh  !  really ;  I  know  the  system,"  said  Dobson, 
who  had  himself  enjoyed  the  fullest  gratification, 
as  a  youngster,  of  thick  bread-and-butter,  resur- 
rection pies,  and  corporal  punishment  at  a  county 
grammar  school :  "  Turkey  carpets,  patent  leather 
boots  at  tea-time,  change  of  socks  after  exercise, 
treacle  posset,  and  modern  languages.  And  where 
was  that,  my  boy  ?  " 

"That  was  at  ;Mr.  Colville's,  at  Lymmersfield." 

Carloss  turned  quickly  round  from  somethino- 
which  had  attracted  his  attention  for  a  moment, 
and  said, 

"  Colville's,  were  you  at  Colville's  ?  What  sort 
of  a  fellow  is  he  ?  " 

"  Capital,  and  so  is  his  w^ife,"  said  the  boy, 
eagerly. 

"I  should  think  you  were  a  judge,"  observed 
the   other,   laughing.      "Did  you   ever   see   my 
b2 


little  sister  Violet  there  ?  "  added  lie,  at  the  same 
time. 

"  No ;  never :  but  I  heard  of  her  having  been 
there  once  when  I  was  away." 

"  I'm  glad  of  that,  for  you'd  have  been  dan- 
gerous to  her  peace  of  mind."  The  boy  looked  up 
smilingly  at  Carloss,  not  knowing  exactly  what  to 
make  of  him.     "  Do  you  ever  fag,  Beauclerc  ?  " 

"  Sometimes." 

"  In  those  neat-looking  gloves,  I  hope  ? "  said 
Carloss,  good-humour edly. 

"  Not  when  I  have  to  fetch  the  butter  for 
Dorrien's  tea." 

"  No,  I  should  think  not :  keep  them  for 
blacking  boots.  However,  take  them  off  now, 
and  run  down  to  Dripping's  as  fast  as  you  can. 
Ask  him  for  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  butter,  two 
Yarmouth  bloaters,  four  French  rolls,  and  a  pound 
of  sugar  for  Carloss,  and  bring  them  up  to  my 
study."  The  little  fellow  was  just  starting,  when 
he  was  stopped  again.  "  And  I  say,  young  'un, 
bring  your  verse-task  for  to-morrow,  and  I'll  do  it 
for  you." 

Beauclerc  departed  on  his  errand,  a  common 
one  enough  in  those  days  with  every  lower-form 


EAELY  PATRONAGE.  5 

boy  in  a  public  school,  and  conveying  to  the  mind 
no  degradation  whatever.  Everybody  had  gone 
through  it,  and  it  was  as  natui'al  to  a  schoolboy  as 
a  kilt  to  a  Highlander. 

The  two  elder  boys,  Dobson  and  Carloss, 
strolled  away  from  the  top  of  the  school  lane, 
where  this  conversation  had  taken  place,  and  bent 
their  steps  towards  the  country,  intent  upon  a 
walk,  before  their  anticipated  rolls  and  bloaters. 

"What  in  the  world  did  you  mean  by  your 
little  sister,  Carloss  ?  I  thought  you  were  the 
last  hope  of  the  descendants  of  John  of  Gaunt  ?  " 

This  was  a  joke  at  the  school-house;  but  as 
Carloss  believed  in  it  he  always  took  it  au  serieux. 

"I've  no  doubt  I  was  the  last  hope,  for  you 
know  my  governor  was  not  in  a  position  to  provide 
such  luxuries  as  descendants  for  the  family  :  his 
elder  brother's  business,  Dobbs.  However,  hope 
is  delusive,  spes  fallax,  and  about  six  years  after 
my  birth  came  my  little  sister  Violet."  Dobbs 
seemed  tired  of  the  conversation,  feeling  no  great 
interest  in  guds  in  general,  nor  Carloss' s  sister  in 
particular ;  so  he  turned  it  into  his  own  channel. 

"  I  wonder  you  don't  work,  old  fellow,"  said  he, 
looking  into    Carloss's  face   with   more   curiosity 


6  THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

perhaps  than  affection.  Dobson  affected  highlows, 
rather  short  trousers,  and  hair  "svhich  was  con- 
stantly falUng  over  his  forehead  and  eyes,  and 
being  pushed  off  again  by  well-inked  fingers. 

"  Wliat's  the  use  of  it  ?  "  replied  the  other,  who 
was  as  great  a  contrast  to  his  companion  as  can 
well  be  imagined.  "  Cui  bono  ?  as  you  swells 
have  it." 

"  Why,  if  only  to  leave  in  the  sixth ;  it  would 
be  so  jolly."  The  sixth  was  Dobson's  seventh 
heaven,  as  near  it  as  could  be  :  and  a  gulf  of 
immeasurable  depth  separated  it  from  the  rest  of 
the  w^orld.  Even  talking  to  his  friend  Carloss, 
he  felt  something  like  an  angel  of  light  with  a 
deep  regret  for  Satan's  misfortunes.  Carloss  was 
only  in  the  upper  fifth. 

"  Ah  !  that's  it,  exactly,"  said  Carloss,  "  to  leave 
in  the  sixth  !  that  strikes  me  as  absurd.  If  I  was 
going  to  stay  in  the  sixth,  like  you,  Dobbs,  why, 
perhaps  it  would  be  worth  while ;  but  I  think  I 
shall  do  for  the  riding-school  by  Easter." 

"  Yes,  old  fellow,  I  know  that ;  but  just  to  have 
got  your  remove  this  last  quarter ;  and  you  could 
do  it  so  easily.  Old  Armstrong  would  be  so 
pleased.     You're  rather  a  favourite  of  his." 


EAKLY  PATEOXAGE.  7 

"  What !  because  I  won  the  long  jump.  Well, 
he's  a  good  fellow ;  but  I  don't  think  I  can  obHge 
him  in  this  particular.  Slaughtering  Frenchmen 
is  a  much  higher  ambition  than  writing  sapphics." 

"  It's  a  pity  you  should  be  thro-wn  away  upon 
the  army ;  why  don't  you  go  to  Oxford,  and  then 
to  the  bar  ?  that's  what  I  shall  do.  Then  I  shall 
try  to  get  into  Parliament,  and " 

"Then  you'll  slaughter  your  thousands  too; 
only  it  w^ill  be  with  a  jaw-bone ;  you  Imow  the 
animal,  Dobbs." 

"  Not  so  bad,  'pon  my  soul ! "  said  Dobbs,  as  he 
attempted  feebly  to  bonnet  his  friend. 

As  they  retmiied  by  the  meadows,  alongside  of 
the  river,  to  school,  they  remarked  that  it  had 
risen  remarkably  within  the  last  hour  or  two. 

"  That's  the  snow  from  the  Welsh  hills  :  it  goes 
down  as  rapidly,  though,  as  it  rises." 

"I  don't  know  about  that.  I  remember  once 
all  the  lower  part  of  the  town  being  flooded,  and 
the  people  going  about  in  punts." 

"  Splendid  fun !"  said  Carloss. 

"  I  don't  Imow  about  that,  either :  there  was  no 
end  of  property  destroyed,  and  the  lower  floors  of 
all  the  houses  were  under  water  for  three  days.     I 


8 

remember  it ;  I  was  flogged  for  being  nearly 
(lro^vned." 

"What  an  odd  punishment  for  such  a  diver- 
sion." 

"  Oh !  it  was  my  fault,"  said  Dobson,  who, 
having  enshrined  Dr.  Armstrong,  felt  no  com- 
punction at  any  form  or  extent  of  worship.  "  It 
was  all  right.  He  said  he'd  flog  any  fellow  that 
got  wet  through  again  by  going  into  the  streets  in 
a  boat.  I  did  get  wet  through,  body  and  soul ;  and 
it  took  three-quarters  of  an  hour  before  I  was 
brought  to ;  and  the  next  day  I  got  six  cuts." 

"  Going  about  in  boats  in  the  street ;  by  Jove  ! 
that  would  be  a  lark."  And  having  arrived  at  tliis 
conclusion  and  at  the  school  at  the  same  time, 
Carloss  said  no  more. 

Meantime  Frank  Beauclerc  had  been  to  Mr. 
Dripping,  and  had  returned  with  an  armful  of  rolls 
and  sugar,  and  hands-full  of  butter  and  bloaters : 
and  having  deposited  them  on  one  of  the  study 
tables,  waited  patiently  the  return  of  the  proprietor. 
The  studies  at  Dr.  Armstrong's  were  comfortable 
rooms  enough ;  and  while  they  answered  their  pur- 
pose of  patent  digesters  for  mental  aliment,  they 
were  no  less  useful  for  recruiting  the  forces  of  the 


EAELY  PATRONAGE.  9 

bodjj  when  a  more  than  ordinary  share  of  repose 
and  comfort  was  reqmred.  Each  study  was  a 
square  and  lofty  apartment  of  about  fourteen  or 
fifteen  feet.  It  contamed  two  green  baize-covered 
tables,  at  each  end  of  which  was  a  drawer.  There 
were  four  rush-bottomed  chan-s;  two  bookcases, 
divided  equally  into  two  parts ;  a  coal-box,  shovel, 
poker,  and  tongs :  and  that  these  latter  might  not 
lack  exercise,  there  was  a  fireplace  of  but  mode- 
rate dimensions.  To  be  sure,  as  it  chiefly  served 
for  mulling  in  small  quantities  the  smaller  beer 
which  was  smuggled  from  the  hall  dinner,  and  for 
grilling  cold  meat,  the  necessity  for  increasing  its 
dimensions  was  not  so  apparent  as  if  its  primary 
use  had  been  for  heating  whole  bodies.  The  rooms 
looked  on  to  a  cheerful  court,  whence  might  be 
seen  objects  of  considerable  interest,  but  not  in 
great  numbers  :  occasional  maid-servants,  with  or 
without  children,  to  and  fro  between  the  masters' 
houses  and  the  street ;  little  boys  going  and  coming 
on  some  such  errands  as  Frank  Beauclerc's,  laden 
with  tarts,  butter,  eggs,  ham,  and  sugar ;  big  boys 
lounging  in  the  doorways,  or  amusing  themselves 
before  the  ground-floor  windows,  sometimes  with 
fencing-foils  or  boxing-gloves,  and  at  certain  times 


10 

with  heavy  books,  preparing  the  final  polish  for  an 
afternoon  construe,  before  appearing  in  the  pre- 
sence of  the  Doctor.  Regularly,  too,  at  twelve 
o'clock,  might  be  seen  the  second  master,  who  lived 
in  the  house  which  occupied  the  third  side  of  the 
court,  escorting  his  wife  on  their  daily  constitu- 
tional. And  a  remarkably  pretty  woman  she  was ; 
so  much  so,  that  Dobson  himself  was  induced  to 
leave  that  interesting  chorus  in  the  Frogs  of  Aris- 
tophanes, beginning  with, 

whenever  he  heard  a  shout  from  some  less  ardent 
admirer  of  the  Greek  comedian  of  "  Here  comes 
old  Swipes  and  his  wife ! " 

The  sounds,  too,  whicli  issued  from  the  study- 
windows  were  suo;o;estive  of  uncultivated  talent. 
"  j\Iy  Love  is  like  the  red,  red  rose,"  on  a  flute, 
pm'chased  second-hand  at  a  bookstall;  "Auld 
Robin  Gray,"  and  "  The  Lass  of  Richmond  Hill," 
set  as  an  accompaniment,  but  played  without  it,  on 
the  cornet-a-piston ;  a  nigger  melody  on  the  banjo; 
and  the  intermingled  yells  of  a  junior,  sentenced 
by  a  com-t  scholastic  to  a  dozen  from  the  prepo- 


EAELY  PATEONAGE.  11 

sitors  for  breach  of  discipline,  loaded  the  air,  like 
a  Dutch  concert,  not  unfrequently  more  in  rivalry 
than  in  unison. 

In  such  a  room  stood  Frank  Beauclerc.  He  had 
had  time  to  notice  a  dog-whip,  a  leaded  stick  for 
the  destruction  of  game,  a  half-finished  net,  a 
blacking-pot  and  pair  of  brushes,  and  a  kettle, 
when  Carloss  and  Dobson  entered. 

"  Now,  young  'un,  out  with  the  teapot,  and  put 
the  kettle  on  the  fire ;  there,  that  w^ill  do.  Now 
while  the  tea  brews  bring  us  your  verses."  Beau- 
clerc hesitated. 

"What  are  they?" 

"  Bland,"  said  the  boy. 

"Well,  then,  go  and  fetch  them."  The  boy 
stood  still.  "  Why,  you  young  vagabond  !  I  do 
beheve  he  doubts  om'  capacity,  Dobbs." 

"  Ah !  that's  because  you  are  not  in  the  sixth ; 
now  then,  be  off." 

Beauclerc,  thus  adjm'ed,  went  out,  and  re- 
turned, bringing  a  copy  of  Bland's  verses,  and  a 
sheet  of  paper,  rather  the  worse  for  his  experi- 
ments. 

"  Here,  give  us  hold,"  said  Carloss,  snatching 
the  book  and  the  paper ;  "  how  many  ?  " 


12 

"  Six  ;  for  to-morrow,  at  second  lesson.  I  shall 
have  time  to  do  them." 

"  Nonsense ;  I  know  Bland  by  heart.  Toast 
that  herring ;  and  if  you  burn  it,  Dobbs  will  be 
down  upon  you.     Where  do  you  begin  ?  " 

"  But "  began  Frank  again,  and  then  stopped 

and  blushed,  evidently  anxious  to  say  something, 
but  afraid. 

"  Well !  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  I  think  I'd  better  do  them  myself ;  I  really 
am  much  obliged " 

"  So  I  should  think,  if  you're  going  to  do  them 
all  like  this.  Why,  here  are  false  quantities  enough 
in  these  two  lines  to  get  the  whole  of  the  shell  sent 
down  !  Don't  you  know  that  the  first  o  in  novo 
is  short,  and  that  you  can't  have  a  word  of  three 
syllables  at  the  end  of  a  short  line.  I  hope  your 
friend  Colville  didn't  tell  you  that  you  might  ?  " 

"  No !  I  knew  it  was  wrong,  but  I  couldn't  do 
it  any  other  way." 

"  Then,  look  here ;  that  is  the  way  to  do  the 
line.'  And  Carloss  wrote  the  two  lines  as  they 
should  be. 

"  But  I'd  rather  try  to  do  them  myself,"  said  the 


EAELY  PATEOXAGE.  13 

boy,  at  last,  colouring  as  he  spoke,  but  looking  liis 
patron  in  the  face. 

"  But  suppose  you  can't  ? " 

"  ^Ir.  Colville  told  me  always  to  do  my  own 
work." 

"  Very  right,"  said  Dobbs.  "  Did  he  tell  you 
why?" 

"  He  said  it  was  deceiving  my  master  not  to 
do  so?" 

"  Dobbs,  that's  a  phenomenon.  Wliat  else  did 
he  say?" 

"  That  if  I  did  that,  and  never  told  a  lie,  Dr. 
Armstroncr  would  never  floo^  me." 

"  Did  he  ?  Perhaps  he  was  right,"  said  the 
other ;  "  though  it  never  struck  me  in  that  light. 
At  all  events,  he  was  a  gentleman." 

"  So  he  was,  I'm  sure,"  replied  Frank,  making 
the  most  of  his  opportunity.  "  So  if  you'll  give 
me  the  paper,  I'll  try  to  do  them  myself." 

"  Let  him  have  them,  Carloss.  There,  sit  down 
there,  and  turn  them  into  Latin,  and  we'll  help 
you  when  you  are  hard  up.  Hollo !  mind  the 
bloaters,  you've  upset  the  shovel.  You're  a  lucky 
fellow  to  hare  begun  life  under  a  gentleman,  and 


14  THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

to  have  come  here  afterwards.  I  wish  I  had.  The 
first  time  I  ever  told  the  truth  I  was  flogged  for  it, 
I  rememher ;  and  it  made  a  great  impression." 

"  Did  it?  Is  there  any  more  cream?"  inquired 
Keginald  Carloss. 

"  Yes ;  they  couldn't  find  out  who  cut  down  a 
gooseberry-tree  in  the  playground,  and  I  said  that 
I  did.  The  master  called  the  confession  gross 
insolence,  and  flogged  me  before  the  whole  school ; 
so  I  never  told  the  truth  again  until  I  came 
here." 

By-and-by  the  verses  were  done,  and  the  tea 
and  bloaters  w^ere  eaten,  and  Beauclerc  was  going 
away,  delighted  with  his  new  patrons. 

''  Stop  a  moment,"  said  Dobbs,  who  saw  a  fine 
opportunity  for  airing  his  professional  talents ;  so 
Frank  stopped,  and  looked  down.  "  Do  you  ever 
analyse  motives  ?  "  And  Dobson  put  his  hands 
deep  in  his  pockets,  and  his  head  on  one  side,  and 
looked  as  like  an  Old  Bailey  counsel  as  possible. 

"  Hang  it,  Dobbs,  don't  tease  the  boy ;  what  the 
deuce  should  he  know  about  analysing  motives  ?  " 

"  Wait  a  moment,  O  descendant  of  kings.  Do 
you  ever  analyse  motives  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  the  fag,  in 


EAELY  PATEOXAGE.  15 

a  niild  tone  of  voice,  and  looking  down  at  his  boots, 
instead  of  up,  as  a  witness  should  look. 

"  Well,  come  now,  witness,  I  mean,  Beauclerc, 
do  you  tell  the  truth  because  it's  right  to  do  so,  or 
because  old  Colville,  or  whatever  his  name  is,  told 
you  that  Dr.  Ai-mstrong  wouldn't  flog  you  ?"  And 
here  Dobson  looked  as  important  as  possible  for  a 
barrister  without  his  ^Yig  and  gown.  "  Now,  take 
time." 

And  indeed  the  witness,  as  he  was  called,  seemed 
very  likely  to  obey  this  latter  mandate  by  not  an- 
swering at  all.  He  only  blushed  and  looked  again 
at  his  boots,  which  were  not  so  clean  as  before  his 
walk  to  Dripping's. 

"  Don't  bother  the  boy,"  said  Carloss. 

"  You've  no  taste  for  analysis  of  character,"  said 
Dobson,  "  and  never  will  have,  while  you  remain 
in  the  fifth  form.  Let  me  recommend  the  Ethics 
of  the  mighty  Stagyrite  to  your  notice.  Come, 
yomig  man,  you're  on  your  oath.  Why  do  you 
tell  the  truth  ?    Which  is  the  motive  ?  " 

"  Because  Dr.  Armstrong  would  flog  me  if  I 
didn't." 

"  There,"  said  Dobbs,  triumphantly,  "  that's  a 
most  extraordinary  phase  of  the  contradictions  of 


16  THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

character.  By  the  answer  he's  given,  wlilch  is 
symbolical  of  truth  in  the  highest  degree,  he 
proves  that  he  doesn't  lie,  only  from  a  most 
unworthy  motive — physical  fear.  Now  you  may 
go."  And  as  Beauclerc  made  off,  verse-task  in 
hand,  Dobbs's  delight  was  so  great  that  he  threw 
a  book  which  he  held  in  his  hand  after  him. 
"  There,  old  fellow,  what  do  you  think  of  that  for 
an  examination  of  an  unwilling  witness  ?  " 

"  Dobbs,    you're   a    lunatic ;    there    goes    the 
prayer-bell." 


17 


CHAPTER  II. 

A  NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT. 

Quid  juvat  errores  mersa  jam  puppe  fateri  ? 

So  Frank  Beauclerc  began  his  public  school 
days.  Nor  must  these  early  chapters  of  his  boy- 
hood be  regarded  as  a  work  of  supererogation  by 
those  who  long  to  plunge  into  the  middle  of 
affairs  at  once,  or  who  look  for  a  ghost,  a  murder, 
or  a  trial  for  bigamy,  thus  early  in  the  story  of  his 
life.  The  careful  development  of  character,  and 
the  steps  by  which  our  hero  climbs  to  distinction, 
good  or  bad,  are  the  peculiar  duties  of  the  con- 
scientious novelist.  One  knows  what  a  good- 
sized  insect  is  without  the  use  of  the  microscope, 
but  not  without  some  detailed  examination  of  his 
parts. 

VOL.  L  0 


18  THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

It  was  a  great  tiling  for  a  lower-form  hoj  to 
have  dropped  upon  his  feet  so  dexterously  in*  a 
large  public  school  like  Dr.  Armstrong's,  and 
that  by  his  own  merits.  Not  that  he  got  his 
lessons  or  verses  done  by  the  "  big  fellows ; "  not 
at  all,  he  would  not  submit  to  suchl  a  degi'a- 
dation.  The  Beauclercs,  though  an  easy-going 
lot,  were  blessed  with  a  proper  pride.  But  he  got 
just  that  amount  of  help  from  those  who  were  able 
to  give  it,  which  does  so  much  to  encourage  and 
to  inform*  younger  boys.  In  private  schools  they 
ought  to  get  it  from  their  masters,  in  public 
schools  they  do  get  it  from  the  boys.  It  only 
requires  a  discriminating  self-dependence  not  to 
claim  too  much  nor  too  frequently. 

Then  this  patronage  extended  itself  to  all  games, 
in  which  he  became  an  adept  above  his  fellows, 
and  sometimes  to  scrapes  which  were  not  so  good 
for  him,  out  of  which,  however,  he  was  taught  to 
walk  like  a  gentleman,  after  having  run  into  them 
like  a  schoolboy.  The  truthfulness  of  his  cha- 
racter made  him  popular  with  the  good  fellows, 
and  obtained  for  him  a  certain  respect  with  the 
bad;  and  lono;  after  his  friends  Dobson  and 
Carloss  had  gone,  the  one  to  Oxford,  the  other 


A  NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT.  19 

to  the  sanguinary  service  in  which  his  soul  de- 
lighted, their  influence  was  felt  by  their  'prottgt. 

There  was  another  bond  of  union  between  this 
little  fellow  and  his  very  dashing  schoolfellow, 
Carloss.  They  were  both  Indian,  before  the 
miscellaneous  body  who  could  pass  a  good  exa- 
mination, and  wanted  a  provision  for  life  or 
death,  had  sounded  the  tocsin  in  Bengal,  Madras, 
or  Bombay.  The  Beauclercs  and  Carlosses  dated 
from  Olive's  days,  and  the  boys  for  four  genera- 
tions had  only  been  sent  home  to  be  sent  back 
again  at  an  age  when  they  could  appreciate  the 
good  things  which  were  in  store  for  them.  Every 
house  in  Calcutta  was  open  to  such  names  as 
these,  as  to  their  fathers  before  them.  Not  so  to 
the  Joneses  and  Smiths,  who  had  satisfied  the 
Civil  Service  examiners  of  their  capacity,  but 
whose  characters  and  respectability  remained  to 
be  proved  before  a  naturally  prejudiced  tribunal. 
The  Beauclercs  and  the  Carlosses  declared  it  was 
all  over  with  India,  and  prepared  to  come  home  as 
soon  as  their  circumstances  would  let  them. 

The  Saber  did  not  overflow  its  banks  this  time, 
to  the  present  disappointment  of  Carloss.  His 
eminently  practical  mind — regardless  of  possible 
c2 


20    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

consequences  to  the  dwellers  in  the  Low  Cut,  near 
the  Alderman's  Bridge,  Grammerton — had  fore- 
seen and  longed  for  the  certain  pleasures  of  a 
punting  party,  and,  in  the  absence  of  his  favourite 
arm  of  the  service,  cavalry,  a  naval  engagement. 
The  melting  process  in  the  Welsh  hills  was  slower 
than  usual,  and  gave  room  for  the  body  of  water 
to  get  away  with  nothing  more  important  than  a 
few  odd  shirts  and  chemises,  happening  to  be  on 
the  hedges,  "which  it  was  a  fine  day,"  as  Mrs. 
Soaper  remarked,  when  requested  by  the  owners  to 
account  for  their  disappearance. 

Beauclerc  passed  much  of  his  time  in  Carloss's 
study,  where  he  was  sometimes  fagged,  some- 
times licked,  and  sometimes  taught.  He  impli- 
citly believed  that  it  was  all  for  his  good.  A 
great  deal  of  it  was  so. 

"  Come  here,  Frank :  who  was  that  fellow  I 
saw  you  with  yesterday  evening,  just  before  we 
were  gated?" 

"  ^lichaelson,"  said  Frank,  in  a  subdued  tone. 

"  Didn't  I  tell  you  not  to  go  about  with  Mi- 
chaelson  ?  " 

"Yes."  And  the  youngster  began  wondering 
how  many  cuts  the  confession  was  worth. 


A  XAVAL  ENGAGEMENT.  21 

"Why?" 

"  Because  you  said  lie  was  a  snob  and  a  black- 
guard." 

"  Then  what  the  d do  you  mean  by  being 

seen  with  him  ?  " 

"  I  can't  help  it  always ;  he's  in  our  house ; 
and  besides,  he  can't  help  being  poor  and  having 
no  tin." 

"  I  don't  care  about  his  tin ;  it  isn't  that.  I  tell 
you  he's  a  bad  lot.  He's  boiTowed  money  of  you, 
hasn't  he?" 

Beauclerc  would  not  answer. 

"  Tell  me  directly,  Frank." 

Still  the  boy  was  silent. 

"  How  much  was  it  ?  Now  if  you  don't  tell  me 
the  truth  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your  body." 

This  ogre-like  language  is  a  true  expression  of 
scholastic  friendship,  and  must  not  deter  mothers 
from  trusting  then'  boys  to  the  billows  of  the  sea 
of  troubles  in  a  public  school. 

"  Half  a  sovereign."  And  Beauclerc  hung  his 
head  at  speaking  the  truth. 

"  Half  a  sovereign  ?    Why,  you  young  million- 

naire,   what  the  d do  you  mean  by  having 

half  a  sovereign  ?    Have  you  got  any  more  ?  " 


22  THE  CEAUCLEECS,  FATIIEE  AND  SON. 

"  No ;  not  till  Easter." 

"  Has  he  paid  you  ?  " 

"  No ;  but  I  know  he  will  wlien — when  he  can." 

"  Has  he  paid  you  any  ?  " 

"  Not  yet." 

Carloss  put  his  hand  in  his  pocket,  and,  draAving 
out  the  money,  placed  it  on  the  table  before  the 
boy.     "  There,  take  it  up." 

"  Oh,  Carloss !  mdeed,  indeed,  I  can't ;  you're 
always  so  kind,  but " 

"  Will  you  take  that  money  ?  You  needn't  be 
shy  about  it,  for  I'm  going  to  commit  an  assault 
worth  five  sovereigns;  I'm  going  to  thrash  you 
most  heartity,  and  then  I'm  going  to  do  the  same 
by  Michaelson."  Saying  which  he  thrust  the 
money  into  his  hand,  while  poor  Frank's  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  and  Carloss  fulfilled  to  the  letter 
his  promises.  "  Now  be  off,  and  send  INIichaelson 
here  directly." 

Fortune  favours  the  brave  not  unfrequently  at 
the  expense  of  other  people.  So  this  winter  was  a 
lonir  one,  and  towards  the  end  of  it  came  more 
snow  on  the  Welsh  hills,  and  then  a  warm  sun, 
and  then  the  river  rose.  One  night  all  Gram- 
merton  retired  to  bed ;  the  western  hills  of  Wales 


■  A  NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT.  23 

were  clothed  in  floods  of  rosy  light  at  sunset,  after 
a  cloudless  day  as  little  hke  winter  as  possible. 
The  next  morning  the  water  was  in  the  cellars 
of  the  Low  Cut,  and  before  breakfast  it  was  near 
choking  the  arches  of  the  Alderman's  Bridge 
(flattering  memorial  of  civic  liberality),  and  chairs 
and  tables  w^ere  being  hauled  up,  high  and  dry, 
through  the  windows;  and  cribs  without  their 
tenants,  and  tenants  without  their  cribs,  and 
rashers  of  bacon,  alive  and  dead;  and  the  poor 
were  opening  theii-  houses  to  those  who  had  been 
summarily  ejected,  as  indeed  I  find  they  generally 
do.  And  alonsj  the  stream  were  the  wharfino^ers 
and  boatmen  securing  their  craft,  and  manufac- 
turers moving  their  bales  of  flannel  and  woollen 
goods,  these  descendants  of  the  old  Flemings,  to 
higher  stories  of  the  warehouses ;  and  in  the  midst 
of  all  this  needless  terror,  but  actual  inconvenience 
— you  will  hardly  believe  it ! — those  young  rascals 
at  the  schools  were  chuckling  and  rubbing  their 
hands  in  anticipation  of  a  naval  engagement  in 
the  middle  of  the  streets.  Wliat  makes  it  more 
important  to  us  is  that  Carloss,  who  ought  to  have 
kno'v\^i  better,  was  at  the  head  of  them. 
Dr.   Armstrong  was   one    of  those   admirable 


24    THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AKD  SON. 

schoolmasters  that  must  necessarily  be  rare  articles 
in  any  age.  Time  and  space  are  not  -wasted  in 
giving  a  few  words  to  himself  and  his  system. 
He  was  in  himself  a  grand  and  noble  gentleman, 
fitted  to  fill  with  respect,  affection,  or  awe,  the 
rising  generation  of  the  upper  and  middle  classes 
of  a  country  like  tliis.  A  liberal,  but  no  pedantic, 
admirer  of  classical  literatui'e,  of  accurate  but  very 
extensive  reading  among  the  ancients,  and  making 
this  knowledge  subservient  to  the  other  purposes 
of  a  practical  life :  interesting  his  pupils  by  the 
varied  stories  of  apt  illustration  which  he  brought 
to  bear  upon  their  immediate  pursuits.  Withal  a 
Christian  gentleman  of  generous  sentiments,  con- 
scious of  his  own  powers,  and  not  intolerant  of  the 
mistakes  of  other  men.  Need  I  say,  after  this,  that 
he  was  large  of  frame,  handsome  of  person,  and 
clean  shorn  ? 

Of  the  upper  boys  he  made  friends.  lEs  whole 
dependence  was  upon  them  for  example  and  in- 
fluence ;  and  he  expected  that  like  the  barons  of 
old  they  should  be  the  transmitters  (the  /ifo-tVat) 
of  all  that  was  good  in  the  governing  body.  Of 
the  little  boys  he  made  pets.  He  liked  to  see  them 
hearty  in  play,  and  energetic  in  and  out  of  school. 


A  NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT.  25 

But  there  was  another  class  of  schoolboy,  usually 
at  a  discount  with  schoolmasters.  I  mean  those 
boys  whom  physical  courage  and  a  sort  of  natural 
restlessness  make  impatient  learners,  but  very  ex- 
cellent playmates.  He  regarded  these  as  a  sort  of 
connecting  link  between  the  aristocracy  of  learning 
and  the  democratic  mixture  of  talent,  dirt,  simpli- 
city, idleness,  and  genuine  boyhood.  He  tiied  to 
bring  the  playfulness  of  the  schoolroom  into  his 
sixth  form,  and  to  carry  down  some  of  their  dignity 
below.  Some  of  them  w^ere  idle ;  he  knew  that 
they  w^anted  rousing.  Some  were  stupid;  they 
wanted  enlightening.  "  The  sixth  may  be  trusted 
to  go  alone,"  said  he,  "  and  the  little  ones  will  have 
plenty  of  friends  among  the  big  ones ;  but  who  is 
to  take  care  of  the  fellows  who  can  only  run  and 
jump,  and  play  football  and  cricket  ?  That  won't 
get  them  through  such  a  world  of  scrambling  and 
competition.  I  must  look  after  them  myself."  So 
Reginald  Carloss  became  a  prime  favourite  with 
the  Doctor,  being  remarkably  sharp,  but  with  no 
capability  for  reading. 

"Oh,  Carloss,  I  wish  you'd  do  me  a  favour," 
said  Frank  Beauclerc,  after  second  school  one 
morning. 


26  THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

"What  is  it,  young  fellow;  give  you  a  con- 
strue?" 

"  No,  thank  you ;  but  let  me  go  with  you  to  the 
punting  match  this  afternoon." 

"And  who  told  you  there  was  going  to  be  a 
punting  match?" 

"  I  heard  Digby  tell  one  of  the  fellows  in  school 
that  he  was  going  in  Tremayne's  boat  as  his  squire, 
and  that  you  w^ere  going  in  another.  I  should  so 
like  to  see  it." 

"  You'll  be  flogged  if  you're  found  out,  Master 
Frank,  so  I  tell  you ;  and  wdiat  will  your  friend 
Colvillesay?" 

"  I  don't  think  he'd  mind,  if  he  knew^  it  -wasn't 
for  lying  or  lessons.  The  only  things  he  cares 
about  are  falsehoods  and  false  quantities.  He  says 
they're  both  the  signs  of  a  depraved  mind." 

"  Oh,  I  suppose  he  sees  some  connexion  between 
them.  Everybody  is  born  with  a  depraved  mind 
then,  for  nobody  ever  wrote  Latin  verse  by  instinct : 
at  least  I  never  saw  him.  So  you'll  run  the  chance 
of  a  floggmg?" 

"  He  won't  flooj  me.  What  would  he  do  if  he 
was  to  catch  youV^ 


A  NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT.  27 

"  Set  me  a  book  of  Homer :  and  make  me  do  it, 
too." 

'^That's  awkward."  And  Frank  Beauclerc 
began  to  think  the  expedition  wonkl  be  given  up. 
He  was  soon  undeceived. 

"Well!   it  would   be,  just  now.     For   do  you 

know,   Frank,    I've    been   gazetted   to   the   

Hussars,  and  am  ordered  to  join  on  Friday,  which 
is  impossible  if  I  don't  start  to-morrow."  Poor 
Frank  was  so  shocked  by  this  intelligence  that  he 
felt  half  inclined  to  cry.  Nothing  but  the  prospect 
of  the  naval  engagement  prevented  his  tears ; 
"  You  shall  go,  Beauclerc,  but  hold  your  tongue 
about  it." 

The  lono;est  time  between  callino^s-over  was  from 
three  to  five;  and  the  shortest  road  to  the  lower 
end  of  Grammerton  was  by  some  meadows  at  the 
back  of  the  school  fields.  By  five  minutes  after 
three  there  were  twenty-four  schoolboys,  all  anxi- 
ous to  be  punted  from  one  street  to  another,  and 
apparently  willing  to  pay  any  money  or  promise 
anything  for  a  privilege  which  the  rest  of  the  in- 
habitants only  seemed  anxious  to  avoid.  While 
they  bargain  with  Peter  the  boatman  and  his  satel- 


28     THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

litcs  for  his  punts,  we  will  just  give  a  short  descrip- 
tion of  Grammerton  itself,  which  may  account  for 
the  peculiarity  of  its  present  necessities. 

Grammerton,  like  other  fair  cities,  was  built  on 
a  hill.  The  highest  point  was  the  fine  old  Eliza- 
bethan school,  then  and  now  of  European  reputa- 
tion. It  had  its  proper  place  in  the  town.  Oppo- 
site to  it  was  the  old  shattered  and  ruined  castle, 
overlooking  the  bubbling  and  boiling  shallows  of 
the  broad  and  rapid  Saber.  The  civil  war  had  com- 
pleted the  attacks  of  an  equally  ruthless  assailant. 
Time — "  Tempus  edax  rerum."  Science  and  war 
went  hand  in  hand  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth,  and 
the  most  accomplished  scholars  were  the  noblest 
soldiers. 

From  this  hill  the  town  sloped  rapidly  down  on 
every  side  towards  the  river,  which  made  it  a  pe- 
ninsula, studded  with  habitations,  and  pregnant 
with  life.  Humbler  as  it  got  lower  ;  for  the  great 
people  affected  the  Castle  Hill,  and  the  districts 
around  :  and  the  lesser  people  sought  the  banks  of 
the  river,  where  they  seemed  to  make  every  use  of 
the  water  but  one. 

The  aristocracy  of  the  town,  I  say,  lived  on  the 
hills,  as  became  it.     There  was  the  Doctor  and  his 


A  NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT.  29 

staff,  learned  men,  fellows  of  universities,  not 
much  given  to  horseflesh  nor  playing  the  violin, 
but  very  useful  at  dinner-parties.  There  was  the 
neat  little  Colonel  Baldhead  Lethbridge,  one  of  the 
great  county  families,  with  two  lovely  daughters, 
that  we  boys,  for  I'm  an  old  sixth-form  Grammer- 
tonian,  fell  desperately  in  love  with.  I've  since 
been  informed  that  Clara  Lethbridge  was  inclined 
to  enhonpoint  and  sallowish.  At  this  present  day  I 
believe  her  to  have  been  a  goddess ;  and  I've  an  old 
Gloucestershire  friend  who  wears  a  wig,  who  will 
swear  the  same  of  her  sister.  There  was  Hooper, 
the  great  solicitor,  money-lender,  conveyancer  of 
property,  agent  to  the  old  Whig  families,  with  a 
long-legged  rolKcking  son,  who  was  always  going 
out  hunting,  and  whose  whole  hfe  appeared  to  us 
to  be  one  of  idleness  and  self -gratification.  There 
was  the  great  physician  of  the  county,  a  hea'V'y 
man  in  more  respects  than  one,  who  turned  Moore 
into  elegiacs  as  he  drove  about,  and  threw  them 
into  his  waste-paper  basket,  only,  however,  to  be 
picked  out  again  and  revised  with  care.  The 
second  master  at  Armstrong's  said  they  were  not 
Ovidian ;  but  he  was  an  old  Eton  and  King's  man, 
and  Dr.  Bolus  had  been  educated  at  Grammerton 


30    THE  LEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

and  Oxford.  Several  fine  old  dowagers,  aunts  and 
cousins  of  county  people,  gave  a  tone  to  the  society 
on  tlie  Hill.  The  lower  town  was  composed  of 
wharfingers,  manufacturers,  and  the  necessary- 
adjuncts  to  a  thriving,  industrious,  and  very 
wealthy  population.  But  money  went  no  way 
in  Grammerton ;  "  blood,  sir,  blood,  was  the 
thing ; "  and  so  it  is,  to  go  through  dirt. 

These  two  parties  were  far  asunder,  socially  and 
locally,  only  united  by  a  few  tradesmen ;  useful 
people  enough,  and  in  their  innocent  simplicity 
(for  it  was  far  removed  from  London)  not  maldng 
more  than  sixty  per  cent,  of  their  goods.  They 
lived  metaphorically  and  actually  on  the  side  of 
the  hill.  The  suburbs  of  London  have  reached 
the  top.  Nothing  more  need  be  said  of  these 
people,  unless  they  fall  in  our  way  hereafter,  which 
some  of  them  are  pretty  certain  to  do.  Yes  !  now 
I  remember !  The  really  great  man  of  the  place 
I  was  almost  omitting.  Jacob  Han  dim  an  manafred 
everybody,  high,  low,  rich,  poor,  town  and  county. 
Beau  Nash  was  no  greater  in  Bath  in  his  day,  than 
Handiman  was  in  Grammerton  in  mine. 

"  But  wdio  is  Handiman  ?  " 

What !  not  know  Handiman  ?     Come,  then,  I'll 


A  NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT.  §1 

tell  you.  He's  one  of  the  most  cheerful,  good- 
natured,  obliging  fellows  alive.  Condescending  to 
his  inferiors,  among  whom  you  may  certainly  rank 
everybody  in  Grammerton.  A  great  beau  above 
all  thmgs  is  Jacob  Handiman.  His  hat  has  a 
turn  in  it  which  verges  on  the  ecclesiastical,  but 
just  cleverly  escapes  anything  professional;  his 
boots  bear  a  polish  which  rivals  all  the  patent 
leather  in  the  world,  and  sIioavs  what  a  valet,  well 
looked  after,  can  do ;  and  his  feet  have  sufficient 
gout  in  them  only  to  give  a  respectability  to  his 
walk,  and  restrain  his  energies  from  breaking  into 
a  rmi.  In  his  case  gout  has  been  an  extraordinary 
dispensation.  His  clothes  were  of  the  best  and 
newest  material,  but  of  an  earlier  pattern,  when 
trousers  and  coats  were  made  to  fit. 

"  But  you  haven't  told  us  loliat  Jacob  Handi- 
man was  ?  " 

Truly ;  it  would  be  easier  to  tell  you  what  he 
was  not.  He  was  a  town  comicillor,  chairman  of 
the  gas-  and  water- works,  had  been  mayor  so  often 
that  he  seemed  to  be  always  full  of  beans ;  he  was 
the  great  Conservative  agent  for  I  don't  know 
what  extent  of  country,  or  for  how  many  counties  ; 
lessee  of  the  Grammerton  Theatre,  proprietor  of 


32    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

the  Grand  Hotel ;  public  liandicapper  for  the  dis- 
trict, and  projector,  purveyor,  starter,  and  judge  of 
the  Grammerton  race  meeting,  which,  under  ]Mr. 
Jacob  Handiman's  management,  had  assumed  a 
truly  leviathan  form.  To  be  sure,  ill-natured 
people  said  that  the  handicaps  were  made  f©r  his 
friends ;  but  his  conscious  rectitude  was  above  dis- 
guise, and  he  only  laughed,  as  he  truly  observed, 
the  money  must  go  somewhere,  and  it  had  better 
go  to  his  friends  than  his  enemies.  Indeed,  so 
stern  was  his  virtue  in  this  respect,  that  on  one 
occasion  he  was  said  to  have  declined  "  to  part," 
feeling  that  it  was  worse  than  wrong  to  let  the 
stakes  go  into  an  improper  channel,  or  that  he  could 
have  no  better  friend  than  himself.  To  do  him 
justice,  the  gentlemen  all  came  in  for  their  turn,  if 
they  had  but  patience  and  horseflesh  to  wait  long 
enouiih  for  it.  In  a  word,  there  never  was  a  better 
fellow  than  old  Jacob  Handiman,  or  a  more  perfect 
autocrat  in  Grammerton. 

"  Now  then,  Peter,"  said  the  boys,  "  out  with 
the  punts ;  we're  going  to  land  on  the  opposite 
side."  And  a  couple  of  punts  were  manned  in  no 
tunc. 

"Up  with  the  flag  !"  said  a  youngster,  producing 


A  XAYAL  engage:mext.  33 

a  dirty  red   pocket-handkercliief    tied  to   an   old 
stump. 

"  Dear  heart  alive,"  said  Peter,  "  you're  never 
going  to " 

"  You  be  hanged  !  now,  Peter,  none  of  your 
jaw !  You've  got  your  money,  so  out  you  go." 
And  the  punt  began  to  move  slowly  in  the  rapidly 
running  water,  which  appeared  to  be  about  four 
feet  deep,  and  rushing  in  eddies  along  the  naiTOw 
lanes  and  round  the  comers  of  the  houses. 

Peter  himself  was  a  great  character.  Peter, 
surname  unknown,  was  the  school  boatman  and 
bathing-man.  He  was  hard,  thin,  wiry ;  without 
a  hair  on  his  face,  with  high  cheek  bones,  and 
black  twinkling  eyes.  At  present  his  costmne  con- 
sisted of  a  thick  striped  woollen  Jersey,  and  the 
biggest  of  blue  boating  trousers,  well  patched  with 
divers  colours  about  the  seat,  which  was  much 
worn  by  his  boating  propensities. 

"  Only  to  think  ;  sich  nice  yomig  gents,"  said  he, 
sootliingly.  "  Rebellious  young  wagabones  (sotto 
voce),  you'll  spoil  all  your  clothes.  What  will  the 
Doctor  say  if  he  finds  us  out  ?  " 

"  Never  you  mind ;  that's  nothing  to  you, 
Peter." 

VOL.  I.  D 


34 

"  Now,  Charon,  go  ahead ;  !Mr.  Tremayne's 
waitmg,  don't  you  see  the  white  flag  ?  "  sung  out 
Carloss,  at  the  same  time  handing  some  long  poles 
to  his  followers,  which  had  been  furnished  for  the 
occasion. 

Thus  exhorted,  Peter  began  punting,  and  his 
subordinate  followed  with  the  second  battalion,  al- 
most alongside. 

Tremayne  and  his  friends  were  not  slow  in  pre- 
paring for  the  reception  of  their  foes.  Far  from 
waitinor  to  be  attacked,  like  the  Athenians  at 
CEgospotami,  on  the  open  beach,  they  steered 
straicfht  out  to  meet  them.  As  the  rival  fleets  met, 
even  Peter  forgot  his  caution,  and  roared  in  his 
enthusiasm,  "  Go  it,  you  cripples !  well  done,  Mr. 
Carloss  ! "  as  that  gentleman's  lance  created  some 
confusion  in  the  leading  punt  of  the  defence. 
"  Lud  o'  mercy,  if  we  was  to  be  cotched !  " 

"  Keep  her  head  straight,  Peter." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  returned  Peter,  redoubling  his 
efforts,  which,  from  the  pressure  of  stream,  and 
a  well-directed  effort  of  the  other  flag-ship,  was 
found  to  be  no  easy  matter.  The  shock,  however, 
of  the  boat  as  it  struck  Carloss's  amidships,  sent 
the  leader  and  one  of  his  followers  head  over  heels 


A  NAVAL  ENGAGEMEXT.  35 

into  the  water.  This  was,  so  far,  satisfactory,  in- 
asmucli  as  it  afforded  undoubted  evidence  of 
the  depth;  and  the  water-babies,  once  on  their 
legs,  renewed  the  fight  from  the  middle  of  the 
stream. 

"  Go  it,  scarlet ! "  shouted  the  crowd,  which 
besan  to  assemble.  "  Well  done,  white !  never 
mind  about  a  ducking." 

*^Man  overboard!"  said  Peter.  "Mind  your 
hat,  Master  Simpson,"  as  that  useful  article  of 
clothing  disappeared  full  of  water. 

Nothing  could  be  more  equal  than  the  contest ; 
for  the  temporary  success  of  the  attack  was  more 
than  counterbalanced  by  a  successful  manoeuvre  of 
the  second  defending  punt.  She  had  got  so  well 
up  stream,  that  (the  young  Britons,  up  to  their 
waists  in  the  water,  guiding  her  straight  towards  her 
point)  she  ran  full  tilt  into  the  opponents'  leading 
boat.  The  punt  turned  over,  and  Carloss  and  his 
crew,  Peter  inclusive,  tumbled  into  the  water. 
When  they  recovered  their  footing,  the  defence 
was  so  strengthened,  that  it  seemed  necessary  to 
beat  a  retreat. 

"  Carloss,  Carloss  !  quick  !  help  !  Beauclerc's 
gone." 

d2 


36  THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHEE  AND  SOX. 

Carloss  turned;  tliey  had  neared  the  bridge, 
where  they  intended  to  land,  close  by  wliich,  on 
the  towing-path,  the  stream  was  running  with  ex- 
traordinary force.  The  boy  had  been  thrown 
much  further  than  could  have  been  expected.  As 
he  rose  to  his  feet,  the  stream  caught  him  and 
whirled  him  on  to  the  brink  of  the  river's  channel. 

There  was  not  a  moment  to  lose.  Frank  uttered 
no  cry ;  not  a  sound  proceeded  from  his  blanched 
lips.  He  turned  his  imploring  eyes,  straining  with 
an  aoronv  of  fear,  towards  his  schoolfellows.  His 
face  was  pale  as  death,  and  he  seemed  paralysed 
in  all,  save  only  when  his  arms  were  vainly 
struggling  with  the  whirl  of  waters. 

Carloss  answered  the  appeal;  and  years  after 
he  had  not  forgotten  it.  Seizing  Peter's  boat- 
hook,  he  made  his  way  towards  his  protegt. 
As  the  child  tottered  on  the  edge  of  the  deep 
flood  he  thrust  the  boat-hook  towards  him.  Frank's 
last  effort  caught  it;  and  then  commenced  a 
struggle  which  taxed  all  Reginald  Carloss's  strength 
and  weight  to  the  utmost.  He  was  just  able  to 
hold  on  ;  and  Frank  held  on  too  with  the  tenacity 
of  despair.  Help  was  at  hand.  "Dear  heart 
alive,  if  one  of  them  young  ruffians  hasn't  gone 


A  NATAL  EXGAGEMEXT.  37 

and  got  drownded !"  With  wliicli  consolatoiy 
ejaculation  Peter  rushed  to  the  spot,  seized  the 
boat-hook  with  both  hands,  pulled  himself  up  to 
the  boy,  and  hoisted  him  on  his  back  at  the  very 
moment  that  Frank  Beauclerc  felt  his  hmbs  be- 
traying their  office.  In  five  minutes  he  had  had 
some  brandy,  and  in  ten  more  was  running  back 
to  the  schools  by  the  shortest  and  quickest  road 
his  legs  could  carry  him. 

"  Dinah,  Dinah,"  whispered  Carloss  through  the 
nm'sery  door,  knocking  as  gently  as  knocks  can  be 
made  to  be  effective. 

"  Lor  bless  us  and  save  us,  what  is  it  now  ? " 
said  Dinah,  not  in  the  mildest  of  tempers  at  being 
distui'bed  from  her  occupation  of  darning  stockings. 

"  For  goodness'  sake  let  us  in  and  don't  make  a 
row.  One  of  the  fellows  has  tumbled  into  the 
water,  and  I  want  some  clothes  for  him." 

'^  Oh  dear,  dear !  What  mil  ^Ii's.  Armstrong 
say  ?     Whose  things  do  you  want '? " 

"  Never  you  mind  that.  Give  us  sometliing, 
and  I'll  give  you  a  kiss  to-morrow;  only  make 
haste.     He's  dying  of  cold." 

Dinah  was  sixty,  and  squinted  terribly. 

"  Get  along  with  you,    do;    there,  there's  the 


38  THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHEE  AND  SON. 

tilings,  flannels  and  all.  They're  Master  Gold- 
dust's  ;  he's  got  ever  so  many  suits ;  only  don't 
you  tell,  please,  Carloss.  It's  as  much  as  my  place 
is  worth." 

So  Frank  Avas  clothed,  and  became  less  blue  by 
degrees,  and  dried  his  wet  things  in  Carloss's  study ; 
and  he  vowed  eternal  gratitude  to  his  friend  and  pro- 
server  ;  and  by-and-by  we  shall  see  what  came  of  it. 

Carloss  did  not  get  a  book  of  Homer,  so  Beau- 
clerc  had  not  to  write  it,  which  of  course  he  would 
have  done ;  and  he  joined  on  Friday. 

One  week  later  Dr.  Armstrong  required  some 
information.  "  Who  was  the  boy  who  had  been 
down  to  the  bottom  of  the  Low  Cut,  and  was 
nearly  drowned  in  the  flood  ? "  So  he  asked  the 
question  after  evening  chapel. 

Six  jumped  up,  but  five  sat  down  again.  Beau- 
clerc  remained  standing. 

"  Please,  sir,  it  was  me." 

"  That's  bad  English,  boy." 

"  But  it's  true,  sir,  if  you  please." 

"  But  it  wouldn't  have  been  less  true  if  you  had 
said,  '  it  was  I.'  The  verb  ^  to  be '  takes  the  same 
case  after  it  as  before  it.  Did  you  know  you  were 
doing  wrong  ?  " 


A  NAVAL  ENGAGEMENT.  39 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  T\Tiat's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Beauclerc,  sir." 

"  Whose  house  are  you  in  ?" 

"  Mr.  Pui'ser's,  sii'." 

"What  form?" 

"  The  shell,  sii\" 

"  Then,  Beauclerc,  of  ^Ii'.  Purser's  house,  and 
of  the  shell,  I  must  flog  you  to-morrow  morning 
for  doing  what  you  knew  to  be  wrong.  The  mo- 
nitor of  the  shell  will  bring  you  down  after  first 
lesson. 

So  Frank  Beauclerc  was  flogged,  not  for  Ipng, 
nor  for  lessons,  but  for  wilful  disobedience ;  and 
Dobbs  was  quite  right,  and  Mr.  Cohdlle  was  quite 
wrong.  But  the  Doctor  never  forgot  him,  and 
bore  him  especial  favom-  evei'  afterwards. 


40 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  COLVILLES  OF  LYMMERSFIELD. 

Goodness  resolved  into  necessity. — Dryden. 

We  must  go  back  a  little  way.  The  suburbs 
of  London  are  perhaps  as  beautiful  as  those  of  any 
large  city  in  Europe.  They  may  lack  the  warmth 
of  Italy,  the  grandeur  of  Switzerland,  the  colour 
of  Eastern  longitudes.  As  a  homely,  peace-loving, 
picture-like  variety  of  cultivated  scenery  they  are 
unrivalled. 

Amongst  tlie  most  beautiful  of  them  is  Lym- 
mersfield.  In  its  aspect  it  was  uninterruptedly 
rural,  in  its  population  so  far  metropolitan  as  to 
exhibit  comfort,  not  un frequently  wealth,  at  almost 
every  door.    Utter  poverty  was  unknown  at  Lvm- 


THE  COLVILLES  OF  LYMMERSFIELD.  41 

mersfield  amoiio;  the  labourino;  classes  :  it  could 
scarcely  be  called  courtly,  but  it  was  eminently 
respectable.  Everybody,  that  was  anybody,  kept 
a  brougham. 

A  feAv  years  before  the  date  of  which  we  have 
been  writing,  there  arrived  in  that  village  a  clergy- 
man, his  wife,  and  a  few  children.  It  was  the  sort 
of  family  difficult  to  count,  not  difficult  to  name 
when  counted,  for  they  had  their  idiosyncrasies.  We 
have  nothing  to  do  with  them,  particularly  in  this 
story ;  I  mention  them  incidentally,  because  their 
existence  exerts  an  influence  upon  their  father  and 
mother,  who  form  connecting  links  with  others  of 
my  dramatis  personce. 

The  Eeverend  Harry  Colville  had  no  prefer- 
ment, incumbency,  or  curacy  of  any  kind ;  he  had 
given  up  the  latter  after  labouring  in  his  vocation 
as  long  and  as  honestly  as  he  could.  He  was  not 
impressed  with  the  responsibilities  of  cold  and 
hunger  for  his  little  ones  beyond  a  certain  point. 
He  was  rather  hardworking  than  much-enduring ; 
and  having  done  what  he  called  his  best,  he  took 
four  pupils  and  a  house  at  Lymmersfield  from  an 
outgoing  tenant. 

Harry   Colville    had    been    ordained   five-and- 


42 

twenty  years  ago.  He  had  imbibed  his  notions  of 
discipline  from  a  Roman  Catholic  lady,  and  of  re- 
sponsibility from  the  rector  of  his  uncle's  property. 
To  ride  and  shoot  occasionally,  but  very  well ;  to 
play  a  decent  rubber,  and  lose  points  and  sixpences 
with  good  temper ;  to  carve  gracefully  at  the 
Squire's  table,  and  not  to  exceed  fifteen  minutes 
of  very  orthodox  doctrine  on  Sunday. 

That  was  theory ;  what  was  the  practice  ? 

A  population  of  paupers ;  an  absent  squire ;  one 
hundred  per  annum  ;  typhus,  dirt,  smells,  bad  ven- 
tilation ;  a  lodging  over  a  cheesemonger's,  clothing- 
clubs,  Dorcas  societies,  daily  school,  Wednesday 
evening  lecture,  tea,  muffins,  bad  music,  constant 
toil,  bad  society,  and  an  early  marriage.  The  last 
was  the  best,  for  it  broke  the  spell. 

The  romance  of  a  man's  life  is  never  gone,  if 
he  be  married  to  the  w^oman  he  loves.  There's  a 
motive  for  living,  and  a  motive  for  living  well; 
and  a  tenfold  streno-th  of  inducement  is  added 
when  there  are  children.  They  exist  as  a  constant 
antidote  to  trials,  a  constant  reminiscence  of  God's 
goodness.  We  seldom  look  at  them  without  think- 
ing of  the  Giver ;  and  sometimes  it  is  the  only 
one  of  his  bounties  which  recals  him  to  our  minds 


THE  COLTILLES  OF  LYMMEESFIELD.  43 

dui'ing  tlie  day.  They  force  worldly  and  selfish 
men  to  think  for  others  as  well  as  themselves,  when 
nothing  else  would  do  so.  They  are  among  the 
best  of  Heaven's  mercies.  Presei've  us  from  the 
adoption  of  John  Stuart  ^lill's  theory  on  this  sub- 
ject, say  I. 

So  Hariy  and  his  wife  left  Slavingf ord  and  came 
to  a  comfortable  house  at  LjTiimersfield,  pupils, 
children,  and  Jock.  Jock  was  an  old  pony  which, 
I  notice,  all  parsons  keep,  however  pauperised.  A 
Jock  costs  nothing. 

For  a  woman  of  thirty,  I  think  Bessie  Colville 
was  the  most  beautiful  person  I  ever  saw.  She  sat 
at  the  head  of  her  husband's  table  making  tea  for 
him  and  his  pupils,  who  all  made  love  to  her  in 
their  simple  ways  :  and  she  shed  a  shower  of  gold 
over  his  poverty  by  the  brightness  of  her  mind. 
Men  said  she  governed  him,  if  so,  it  was  because 
she  governed  herself. 

"  AYait  a  moment,  Harry,  I  want  to  speak  to 
you,"  said  she,  after  breakfast,  dismissing  his  four 
pupils  with  an  unmistakable  hint. 

"  I'll  come  to  you  after  the  things  are  taken 
away."  He  slipt  into  the  greenhouse  to  smoke  a 
cheroot,  and  returned  in  the  course  of  a  quarter  of 


44    THE  BEAUCLEKCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

an  hour.  "  Well,  Bessie,  you  wanted  to  speak  to 
me?" 

"  I  did ;  and  I  do  ;  but  I  dare  say  you  are  going 
to  those  boys,  and  I  want  a  good  half-hour.  AVho 
do  you  think  has  written  to  me  ? " 

"  Tom  Shirley,"  said  Harry,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation.  Tom  was  an  old  lover  of  Mrs.  Colville's, 
and  he  rather  expected  a  rise  out  of  her. 

"  No,  dear,  not  Tom  Shirley ;  but  it's  an  Indian 
letter  for  all  that." 

"  I  know  that."  And  then  he  guessed  the  names 
of  half  a  dozen  old  pupils.  Civil  Service,  Company's 
Army,  Queen's  Service,  and  everything  else. 

Bessie  said  "  no  "  to  all. 

"  I  don't  know  anybody  else." 

"  Yes  you  do.  Do  you  remember  Everard 
Beauclerc,  the  colonel,  whose  property  at  Beauvale 
has  been  out  at  nurse.  He  stayed  with  us  just 
before  he  went  out  with  his  }'oung  wife,  eight  or 
ten  years  ago." 

"  What,  Everard  ?  of  course  I  do.  By  Jove, 
what  a  capital  fellow  that  was;  and  wasn't  he 
handsome,  Bessie?  We  used  to  be  great  chums 
at  Grammerton,  and  at  Oxford,  only  he  left  with- 
out taking  a  degree." 


THE  COLYILLES  OF  LYMMEESFIELD.  45 

"  Would  you  like  to  see  the  letter  ?  "  said  Mrs. 
ColviUe. 

"Immensely;  let's  have  it,  that's  a  dear  old 
soul."  And  the  dear  old  soul  produced  a  limp, 
but  closely  written,  double-sheeted  epistle  from 
her  pocket.  She  was  about  leaving  him  to  its 
perusal. 

"  Oh !  I  say,  Bessie  dear,  this  is — that  is — it's 
rather  long ;  I  don't  think  I  could  read  the 
writing.  You  wouldn't  mind  reading  it  to  me, 
would  you?"  And  he  proceeded  to  lace  up  his 
boots. 

"That's  very  like  you,  Harry.  You  like  ^im- 
mensely' to  do  nothing  but  just  your  own 
work.     But  here,  sit  down." 

The  letter  was  like  an  Indian  letter.  It  con- 
tained the  news  of  several  years.  Colonel  Beau- 
clerc  had  risen  in  his  regiment  to  the  command. 
He  had  shot  tigers,  been  up  the  country,  visited  , 
Cabul  and  the  five  rivers,  been  wounded  at  Fe- 
rozeshah,  assisted  at  a  loot,  had  not  forgotten  old 
England,  and  his  dear  Harry,  and  the  old  faces 
at  Grammerton ;  had  lost  his  wife,  and  finally 
had  a  son.  All  this  was  detailed  with  admirable 
skill ;  and  when  Bessie  Colville  reached  this  cli- 


46     THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

max,  she  paused  to  take  breath,  and  (knowing 
the  contents  to  come)  rather  looked  for  some  ex- 
pressions of  sm-prise.     All  Harry  said  was  : 

"  Well,  dear,  so  have  we ;  several.  Except  the 
tiger  hunt,  it  seems  to  be  rather  uninteresting  for 
so  sharp  a  fellow  as  Everard." 

"  Don't  be  impatient,"  said  she,  and  resmned. 

The  letter  went  on :  "  My  boy,  who  is  one  of 
the  finest  little  fellows  on  earth,  wdll  leave  this 
for  England  as  soon  as  I  get  your  answer ;  and 
pray  let  it  be  at  your  earliest  convenience,  or  as 
soon  as  you  and  your  husband  can  make  up  your 
minds.  Will  you  take  charge  of  my  little  Frank  ? 
He  is  but  nine  years  old,  very  intelligent  and 
docile;  and  I  know  nobody  with  whom  I  could 
place  him  with  so  much  satisfaction."  Then  fol- 
lowed most  liberal  offers  on  the  score  of  pecuniary 
arrangements,  expressions  of  entire  coincidence  in 
Colville's  views  as  to  education,  with  only  an  im- 
plied wish  that  the  boy  might  have  the  advantage 
of  a  public  school,  wdienever  the  time  for  it  might 
arrive. 

Colville  was  one  of  those  duck's  backs  of  hu- 
manity from  which  troubles  usually  ghded  like 
water ;  but  he  had  his  hard  trials,  and  the  difficulty 


THE  COLVILLES  OF  LYMMEESFIELD.  47 

of  keeping  tliem  from  the  woman  who  would  will- 
ingly have  borne  two-thirds  of  them  on  her 
shoulders,  added  to  the  burthen.  It  is  but  a 
mistaken  kindness  after  all. 

The  letter  had  really  been  uninteresting  enough 
to  Harry  Colville,  and  he  heard  but  little  about 
the  campaigning  of  his  old  friend ;  but  when  she 
came  to  the  proposal  and  the  liberal  conditions 
attached  to  it,  he  saw  a  pleasant  addition  to  his 
income  for  some  few  years  to  come.  His  mind, 
which  had  been  looking  eagerly  forward  to  next 
year,  when  his  present  pupils  might  not  be  re- 
placed, was  a  Httle  upset  by  this  very  unexpected 
relief;  and  when  his  wife  had  finished  reading, 
and  looked  up,  she  saw  a  very  puzzled  expression 
in  his  face,  and  a  tremulous  twitching  of  the  lips, 
which  she  was  at  no  loss  to  interpret,  but  which 
she  thought  it  prudent  not  to  notice. 

"Well,  Harry;  that's  very  lucky,  isn't  it?  I 
suppose  you'd  like  to  take  the  boy;  he'd  be  a 
companion  for  Charlie  and  Maurice." 

"  Take  him ! "  said  he,  jumping  up  in  the  reco- 
very of  his  spirits,  which  good  fortune  sometimes 
damped,  but  misfortune  never,  and  giving  his  wife 
a  kiss,  which  might  have  been  heard  or  seen  by  all 


48 

liis  houseliold  for  anything  he  cared ;  "  take  him  ! 
I  should  think  so.  Oli,  Bessie !  if  you  only  knew 
how  anxious  and  wretched  I  have  made  myself 
thinking  about  next  year " 

"Perhaps  I  do  know,  Harry,  better  than  you 
think." 

"  Oh  no,  you  don't ;  I  take  pretty  good  care  of 
that."  Bless  the  man,  how  clever  he  was  in  his 
own  eyes  !  "  But  upon  my  word,  it  is  so  uncertain 
from  day  to  day ;  and  then  one  fellow  thinks  this 
ousht  to  be  taught,  and  another  wants  his  son  to 
have  an  occasional  ride  on  horseback,  if  it  is  not 
too  expensive,  and  a  third  suddenly  changes  his 
views,  and  requests  you  to  send  his  son's  books 
home,  and  the  things  which  he  left  behind,  and 
never  dreams  that  it's  customary  to  give  or  pay  for 
a  quarter's  notice,  that  I  really  have  lived  for  the 
last  four  years  over  a  powder-magazine.  How- 
ever, it's  all  right  now,  Bessie,  for  some  time  to 
come ;  and  you  shall  have  a  comfortable  brougham, 
and " 

"Let's  have  some  more  furniture  first  in  the 
children's  room,  and  an  under-housemaid,  dear ;  I 
don't  care  about  the  brougham." 

"  But  we  can  have  both ;  and  you  know  nobody 


THE  COLVILLES  OF  LYM:MEESFIELD.  49 

thinks  much  of  one  here  without  a  brougham ; 
only  one  horse,  you  know;  I  do  beheve  it's  as 
cheap  as  flys."  And  away  went  Harry  Colville 
upon  the  strength  of  the  Indian  letter,  forgetful 
of  all  the  accidents  or  obstacles  that  might  happen 
to  rob  him  of  his  new  som'ce  of  income;  of  the 
thousands  of  miles  that  as  yet  divided  him  from 
his  pupil ;  and  of  the  possibility  of  illness  or  death 
with  the  boy  or  others,  adding  one  more  to  the 
hundreds  of  disappointments  he  had  experienced 
in  his  speculative  vocation. 

^Irs.  Colville  regarded  matters  from  a  more 
sober  point  of  view  ;  but  she  was  not  the  woman 
to  put  a  spoke  in  the  wheel  of  her  husband's 
happiness. 

However,  this  time  all  went  right.  Harry's 
prognostications  of  a  successful  issue  turned  out 
true.  There  were  no  deaths,  no  quarrellings,  no 
extraordinary  demands  for  things  which  Lymmers- 
field  could  not  produce,  as  Turkish  bath,  hack 
ponies,  gymnasia,  a  swimming  master,  a  professor 
of  Sanscrit,  a  piano  in  his  bedroom,  or  a  French 
cook ;  and  in  the  course  of  six  months  from  the 
receipt  of  the  letter,  little  Frank  Beauclerc  took 
his  seat  in  ^Irs.  Colville's  nursery. 

VOL.  I.  E 


50  THE  BEATJCLEKCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

"  Bessie,  liow  old  is  Frank  ?  "  We  have  aiTived 
at  a  period  about  six  years  later. 

"Nearly  fourteen;  at  least  within  six  months 
of  it."  Harry  Colville's  face  lengthened,  and  he 
was  deep  in  meditation.  He  turned  a  few  half- 
crowns  round  in  his  pocket;  perhaps  they  gave 
him  courage,  for  he  said, 

"  It's  time  he  went  to  Grammerton ;  his  father 
and  I  were  there  long  before  that."  Possession 
brightens  even  a  dull  prospect. 

"You'll  be  rather  short  of  numbers  the  next 
quarter;  how  many  go  up  for  their  examination 
at  the  end  of  the  term  ?" 

"Two  out  of  the  four  ought  to  do  so." 

"Will  they  both  get  through,  do  you  think?" 
Mrs.  Colville  was  but  a  woman  after  all,  ^^ithout 
much  ambition,  and  rather  wished  they  might  not. 

"  One  of  them  will ;  and  so  will  Temple,  if 
they  don't  ask  him  certain  questions  in  Euclid,  or 
history." 

"What  are  they  like?" 

"Well,  his  present  impression  is  that  a  recti- 
lineal figure  is  contained  by  two  lines;  that 
Charles  I.  was  tried  and  executed  by  William  of 
Orange,  and  that   Dr.  Johnson  was  a  dramatic 


THE  COLVILLES  OF  LYMMEESFIELD.  51 


writer  in  the  reign  of  Elizabeth.  That's  about 
his  form.  It's  no  use  to  put  those  right,  because 
he  breaks  out  then  somewhere  else." 

"Is  Frank  fit  for  Grammerton  ?" 

"Yes,  certainly.  I'm  sure  his  father  would 
wish  him  to  go ;  and  it's  better  for  the  boy  that 
he  should." 

"  Well,  I'm  glad  we  didn't  have  the  brougham, 
Harry ;  we  did  just  as  well  without  it." 

"I  can't  agree  with  you  in  that.  It  wouldn't 
have  cost " 

"  But  it  would  have  been  very  disagreeable  to 
have  to  give  it  up ;  and  now  you  have  the  money, 
which  you  put  by  instead,  against  a  rainy  day." 

"That's  all  very  well;  but  I  do  think  I'm 
bemnnmor  to  be  so  well  known  now  that  I  shall  be 
able  to  command  a  certain  number  of  pupils." 

"  Yes,  dear,  so  you  ought ;  for  you  work  hard 
enough,  and  with  great  success ;  but  don't  forget 
that  you've  children  to  come  after  you,  who  want 
our  help,  as  well  as  example." 

"  No,  I  won't :  you're  quite  right.     We'll  send 

Frank  to  Grammerton,  where  he  shall  have  every 

advantage  that  the  school  can  afford  him;    and 

we  must  knock  off  the  second  housemaid  if  we 

E  2 

UliRARY 


U.NlVERSiTy  OF  tUiNWT 


should  have  a  room  or  two  empty  after  the  next 
examination.  And,  now,  if  I  can  c;et  out  for  lialf 
an  hour,  I  sliould  like  a  cigar  to  think  over  little 
Frank's  prospects  at  Grammerton."  He  stopped 
a  moment  at  the  door. 

"  Harry,"  said  his  wife,  "  you  look  a  little  tired ; 
you  must  go  somewhere  at  Easter." 

"  That  sounds  very  well,  but  her  Majesty's 
Army  Examiners  have  settled  that  question  for 
us  by  fixing  the  examination  in  May.  Of  course 
no  tutor  can  leave  his  pupils  a  fortnight  before 
the  time,  especially  with  such  peculiar  notions  as 
Temple's." 

"Why  don't  you  write  to  the  Times  ?" 

"Because  it's  unsatisfactory  to  write  to  any- 
body with  the  certainty  of  not  getting  an 
answer." 

Mrs.  Colville  said  nothing  more,  seeing  that  her 
husband  was  in  a  humour  wdiich  scarcely  wanted 
improving. 

Frank  Beauclerc  went  to  Grammerton,  as  we 
know.  His  career  there  was  more  than  respect- 
able ;  and  we  shall  come  back  to  him  by-and-by. 
Temple  escaped  some  of  the  dangerous  traps  to 
catch    candidates,   but  not   all.     Havi)ig  proved 


THE  COLVILLES  OF  LYMMEESFIELD.  53 

beyond  all  question  that  two  sides  of  a  triangle 
are  greater  than  the  third,  he  astounded  his  exa- 
miners by  stating  that  fact  to  be  "  absurd."  And 
the  Eeverend  Henry  Colville  did  write  to  the 
Times,  and  got  no  redress. 

"  Don't  you  think  it  would  do  you  good  to  take 
three  of  the  children  down  to  Brighton,  Bessie  ? " 
said  Mr.  Colville,  wdien  the  pupils  were  supposed 
to  have  retired  to  rest.  "You  want  to  see 
Violet,  who  is  gone  there ;  and  you  can't  have  a 
better  opportunity.     You  must  want  change." 

"Nobody  ought  to  w^ant  change  who  hasn't  a 
sovereign  to  give  for  it.  I  want  to  see  Violet, 
Harry,  but  Violet  is  well  able  to  afford  the 
luxury  ;  so,  suppose  we  ask  her  here  when  she 
comes  back.     I  wish  you  were  more  prudent." 

"  Oh,  you  always  say  that ;  just  as  if  a  sovereign 
or  two  could  signify.  But  all  women  are  screws : 
more  or  less,"  added  he,  as  he  recalled  a  few  who 
were  not. 

"Do  you  know  wdiat  somebody  says.  That 
prudence  is  a  necessary  ingredient  in  all  the 
virtues,  without  which  they  degenerate  into  folly 
and  excess." 

"  Goldsmith  says  something  like  it,  and  was  a 


54     THE  BEAUCLEKCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

brilliant  example  of  his  own  theory,  my  love,"  said 
Harry  Colville. 

In  the  possession  of  these  two  people  was  a 
store  of  rough  diamonds  between  them.  I  think 
that  those  which  fell  to  the  parson's  share,  he  had 
endeavoured  to  polish  ;  they  looked  best  to  the 
eye ;  but  I  am  sm'e  Bessie  had  much  the 
greater  number,  and  they  were  worth  the  most 
money. 

We  must  go  a  little  further  back  again,  and 
introduce  some  more  of  our  puppets ;  after  that 
we  shall  go  on  more  smoothly.  Until  we  get  all 
the  leading  hounds  out  of  cover  we  shall  have  no 
chance  of  runnincj  into  our  fox. 


55 


CHAPTER  IV. 

MOTHEELESS  CHILDREN. 

The  briefer  life,  the  earlier  immortality. — Milman. 

In  a  room  of  handsome  dimensions  in  Soutlisea, 
facing  the  sea,  in  one  of  the  best  situations  of  the 
town,  and  more  than  comfortably  furnished,  were 
tw  0  cribs.  They  contained  occupants  of  from  two 
to  three  years  old.  The  noiseless  and  cautious 
tread  of  a  professional  nurse,  the  anxious  look  of 
an  Indian  ayah  who  occupied  a  rocking-chair  by 
the  side  of  a  low  fire,  the  darkened  windows  and 
the  hea^y  atmosphere  proclaimed  the  state  of  the 
tiny  occupants  to  be  one  of  sickness.  One  was 
fast  asleep.  Its  delicate  little  features  were  pale 
and  wan.  Its  dark  hair  floated  in  long  masses  of 
wavy  curls  on  the  wliite  pillow.     Its  breathing  was 


56  THE  LEAUCLEECS,  FATIIEE  AND  SOX. 

lieavy,  and  its  tiny  hands  and  limbs  occasionally 
twitched  convulsively.  Still,  the  quiet  of  its  long 
dark  eyelashes  gave  it  rather  the  aspect  of  conva- 
lescence than  dangerous  sickness.  Not  so  the 
other :  her  bright  colour  was  fixed  and  feverish. 
Her  large  eyes  were  open  with  an  anxious,  fearful 
gaze.  She  sat  up  in  bed  ;  and,  as  her  nurse  tried 
to  persuade  her  to  lie  down,  the  poor  little  girl 
moaned  feebly.  She  picked  with  one  hand  the 
parched  skin  from  the  other,  and  as  she  tried 
to  drink  some  cooling  and  refreshing  draught, 
she  swallowed  with  evident  pain.  Then  the  ayah 
went  to  her,  and  the  child,  seizing  her  convulsively 
as  she  bent  over  her,  dragged  her  forcibly  down, 
and  began  to  cry.  Her  lips  were  hard  and  dry, 
and  her  hot  breath  frightened  the  poor  woman, 
wdio  burst  into  tears,  and  sobbed  aloud  over  the 
sweet  little  face. 

"  There,  sit  down,  do,"  said  the  niu'se,  kindly,  to 
the  Indian,  leading  her  away  at  the  same  time, 
"  don't  'e  take  on  so  ;  you'll  only  make  her  worse." 

"  Oh  !  oh  !  my  little  one  !  Won't  she  get  better  ?  " 
and  then  the  woman  began  rocking  herself  again. 

"  You'll  only  make  'em  worse.  Look  at  Miss 
Margaret — see  how  she's  sleeping." 


MOTHERLESS  CHILDEEN.  0« 

"But  my  little  one — oh,  slie'll  die!"  And  the 
poor  child  began  again  to  toss  herself  about  in  the 
delirium  of  fever. 

"  We  must  hope  for  the  best.  Dr.  Millingen 
says  the  other  one's  better,  and  the  turn  o'  the 
fever  '11  come  to-night ;  so  don't  be  down-hearted." 
Nurse  found  it  very  difficult  to  soothe  a  woman 
who  understood  none  of  her  duties  but  such  as 
affection  prompted  ;  and  not  more  than  half  of  her 
language.  Affection  is  very  valuable  by  a  sick 
couch,  but  we  want  firmness  and  judgment  too. 
In  these  latter  the  poor  Indian  was  sadly  deficient. 

In  a  room  immediately  below  the  bedroom  just 
described,  another  scene,  having  reference  to  the 
little  sufferers  above,  was  being  enacted.  Leaning 
forward  in  an  attitude  of  anxious  attention  sat  a 
very  handsome  woman  of  perhaps  thirty  years  of 
age.  She  was  more  than  handsome;  she  was 
very  remarkable  in  appearance,  and  of  a  very 
commanding  presence,  in  figure  as  well  as  feature. 
At  the  moment  I  am  presenting  her  to  my  readers 
she  was  engaged  in  listening  to  an  intelligent,  but 
apparently  very  young  man  :  he  was  explaining 
the  nature  and  treatment  of  the  disease  from  which 
the  children  were  suffering.     He  was  earnest ;  but 


58    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

his  voice  was  low  in  tone,  as  thougli  unwilling  to 
disturb  a  reasonable  sorrow,  or  to  jar  nerves  strung 
by  manifestly  painful  tension.  It  was  plain  to  see 
suffering  in  the  lines  of  the  lady's  face ;  care  and 
want  of  rest.  She  had  done  her  duty,  more  than 
her  duty,  of  watchfulness  ;  but  a  close  analysis  of 
the  expression  of  her  face  exhibited  absence  of  ma- 
ternal solicitude.  The  young  medical  practitioner 
who  sat  opposite  to  her,  had,  however,  failed  to 
discover  this ;  and  her  manner  and  language 
evinced  a  strong,  if  not  tender,  anxiety  for  the 
safety  of  the  invalids. 

"  One,  then,  you  say,  will  recover.  Which  is 
it?  But  there  can  be  no  doubt  of  that?"  And 
she  answered  her  own  question  m  a  disappointed 
tone,  as  if  one  were  a  greater  personal  favourite 
than  the  other.  "  The  one  sleeping  when  we  came 
down,  nearest  the  door.  And  the  other,  Mr.  Mil- 
lingen  ?  Can  nothing  be  done  ?  absolutely  no- 
thing ?  "  And  she  pressed  her  fingers  to  her  lips, 
and  bit  her  nail  Avith  an  impatience  of  sorrow  not 
common. 

"  It  is  only  honest  to — to — say  that — well !  I 
won't  say  nothing  can  be  done.  I  have  tried 
everything.     Nature  may  yet  do  more  than  ai't. 


MOTHERLESS  CHILDKEN.  59 

I  will  return  with  Dr.  Jones  the  moment  he  comes 
home :  he  is  the  safest  man  in  Southsea.  Oh ! 
Madame  Kosenfels,  ours  is  a  sad  task  to  explain  to 
a  mother " 

"  No,  sh',  no.  You  are  saved  that.  I  am  not 
then-  mother.  They  are  but  cousins  entrusted  to 
my  care  in  India :  it  is  almost  as  hard  a  task  to 
convey  the  intelhgence ;  but  not  quite  so  bad  as 
that.  Their  names  are  Carloss,  Violet  and  Mar- 
garet Carloss.     Poor  Mary !  what  a  blow  !" 

]\L.\  Millingen  rose,  somewhat  relieved.  He 
looked  so  very  young. 

"  Is  the  nurse  I  h  ave  trustworthy  ?  She  was 
recommended  by  my  landlady;  for,  as  you  see,  I 
am  a  stranger  in  this  place.  Half  Indian,  half 
German."  She  spoke,  however,  "s^ith  no  accent, 
but  remarkably  well  and  grammatically,  even  for 
an  Englishwoman;  occasionally  only  making  use 
of  a  Germanicism. 

"  Perfectly  ;  and  your  Indian  servant ?  " 

"  Will  do  all  you  tell  her  correctly,  neither 
more  nor  less." 

"  Then,  madame,  I  will  wish  you  good  morning, 
mitil  I  can  return  with  Dr.  Jones,  who  may  give 
us  better  hopes  than  I  can.     I  think  I  have  now 


60  THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

the  names  entered  in  my  memoranda  correctl}', 
Violet  and  Margaret  Carloss?  Thank  you." 
And  Mr.  Millingen  took  his  hat  and  his  departure 
together. 

When  he  was  gone,  Madame  Rosenfels,  as  she 
was  called,  did  not  go  to  the  sick-room  again  im- 
mediately. She  drew  her  chair  to  the  fire,  and  sat 
moodily  contemplating  it  for  sometime;  but  she 
shed  no  tears,  and  only  said  once  or  twice,  "How 
terribly  unfortunate  :  poor  little  thing  !  who  could 
ever  have  thought  it!"  Her  face  reassumed  its 
look  of  impatient  perplexity. 

The  nurse  came  down  to  report  progress  two 
or  three  times.  The  child  was  just  as  restless  as 
ever:  no  better — her  sister,  as  she  called  her,  was 
sleeping  calmly,  and  was  cool  and  comfortable. 

Then  Doctor  Jones  arrived  with  Mr.  Millingen. 
Their  united  ages  would  have  been  that  of  two 
average  practitioners,  for  the  physician  was  an  oc- 
togenarian at  least.  Mr.  Millingen  mistrusted  his 
own  youth  and  inexperience  ;  he  had  not  erred  on 
the  same  side  now.  I  presume  the  two  together 
might  have  made  up  an  average  of  two  vigorous 
intellects. 

But  the  fact  is  that  nothing  could  be  done.     If 


MOTHEELESS  CHILDEEX.  61 

all  the  Doctor  Joneses  in  England,  inclnding 
Wales,  liad  assembled  round  that  little  fever- 
stricken  form,  it  was  too  late.  That  night  the 
baby  died;  and  its  innocent  breath  went  np  to 
heaven,  carrying  with  it  the  better  part  of  life  in 
its  death,  it  left  a  legacy  of  e\dl  thoughts  and  deeds 
behind  it,  like  the  gross  refuse  of  some  exquisite 
perfume,  when  its  essence  has  been  allowed  to 
evaporate. 

Dr.  Jones  brought  no  comfort  to  Madame  when 
he  came  down-stairs,  excepting  that  everything 
had  been  done  which  human  skill  could  debase ; 
but  he  took  away  a  guinea.  It  was  a  very  sad 
one,  though  given  without  a  sigh,  and  well  de- 
served. The  old  gentleman  had  spent  a  life  in  the 
patient  investigation  of  disease  in  this  world,  and 
began  to  reap  the  fruits  of  his  labours  just  as  he 
was  about  to  go  out  of  it.  There  is  no  one  whom 
the  sick  man  so  greedily  calls  for  as  the  doctor,  no 
one  from  whom  he  gathers  such  comfort,  such 
relief,  such  encouragement ;  there  is  no  one  so  un- 
willingly paid.  We  cannot  think  with  Zimmer- 
mann  even,  that  the  patient  can  often er  do  without 
the  doctor  than  the  doctor  without  the  patient. 
The  obligation,    all   said   and   done,  is  not   even 


(j2        the  beauclefvCS,  father  and  son. 

mutual ;  the  patient  lias  a  great  deal  the  best  of 
the  bargain.  If  he  live,  he  has  bought  back  wliat 
he  prizes  more  than  anything ;  if  he  die,  he  goes 
out  of  the  world  like  a  gentleman,  with  his  phy- 
sician by  his  bedside. 

When  the  physician  and  the  general  practitioner 
found  themselves  in  the  street,  the  former  very 
naturally  offered  his  companion  a  seat  in  his 
brougham.  It  was  readily  accepted,  and  Mr.  Ml- 
lingen  seated  himself  well  forward.  It  sQrved  two 
purposes,  as  a  modest  tribute  to  the  superiority  of 
proprietorship,  and  as  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the 
promenaders  on  the  parade. 

"  Who's  that  young  fellow  in  old  tJones's 
brougham  ?  " 

"  His  name's  Milligan  or  Millingen,  or  some- 
thing of  that  kind ;  seems  to  be  in  good  practice.  I 
suppose  he's  been  to  a  consultation  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  Jones  does  a  practice  of  about  ten 
thousand  a  year  ?  " 

"  Quite  that.  Dunderhead  gives  him  three  hun- 
dred and  fifty  for  a  daily  visit." 

"  Well,  Dunderhead  makes  it  pay,  for  he  does  a 
great  deal  of  gambling  in  life  insurances  ;  and  the 


MOTHERLESS  CHILDEEN.  63 

Doctor  s  information,  which  is  drawn  out  of  him  as 
a  mere  matter  of  incidental  conversation,  is  verj 
valuable." 

Whilst  the  passers-by  speculated  as  largely  on 
the  messengers  of  death  as  Lord  Dunderhead  was 
supposed  to  do  on  the  living,  the  tenants  of  the 
well-appointed  brougham  had  their  subject  of  con- 
versation. 

"  Then  my  little  patient  cannot  recover, 
Doctor?" 

"Nothing  short  of  a  miracle  can  save  her; 
your  treatment  has  been  all  that  it  could  have  been, 
in  my  opinion.  But  I  thought  it  was  a  ^Irs.  Ko- 
senfels,  not  Carloss  ?  " 

"The  lady  is  Madame  Rosenfels,  the  child's 
name  is  Violet  Carloss.  She  is  a  guardian  or  go- 
verness— their  friends  are  all  in  India." 

"  A  remarkably  handsome  woman,"  said  the 
Doctor,  dogmatically. 

"Very,"  replied  the  general  practitioner,  ten- 
derly. 

"  I  don't  know  when  I've  seen  a  more  striking 
face.  Those  fine  dark  eyes  of  hers,  and  her  straight 
eyebrows,  are  singularly  classical." 


64  THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

"  They  are  so,  Doctor  Jones ;  and  lier  very 
stralf^ht,  perfectly-formed  features  and  excessive 
paleness  add  to  the  effect." 

"  Precisely.  Do  you  know,  Millingen,  I  made 
a  pretty  close  study  of  physiognomy,  formerly,  and 
I  think  I  never  saw  a  face  exhibiting  one  cha- 
racteristic so  strongly." 

"  And  what's  that,  Doctor  ?  " 
"  Can't  you  guess  ?  " 

"  The  general  character  of  the  face  seems  good ; 
and  she  exhibited  great  anxiety  about  the  little 
girl ;  more  than  usual  with  guardians  of  children 
that  belong  to  other  people.  Yet  her  face  has  no 
tenderness.  Perhaps  you  mean  patience  ?  "  replied 
Millingen. 

^'  You're  near  the  mark.  It's  active  patience, 
if  that's  not  an  anomaly.  She  has  the  character- 
istics of  the  most  indomitable  perseverance.  It 
may  be  for  good,  or  it  may  be  for  bad ;  of  course  I 
can't  tell  what  her  circumstances  or  education  have 
been ;  but  if  she  sets  out  on  a  scent  she'll  follow  it 
with  the  tenacity  of  a  bloodhound."  The  Doctor 
took  a  pinch  of  snuff. 
"  You  think  so  ?  " 
"  Look  at  her  mouth,  sir,  look  at  her  mouth — 


MOTHEKLESS  CHILDEEN.  65 

real  Prince's  mixture."  This  referred  to  the  snuff, 
not  the  mouth. 

"  So  I  did,  Doctor,  and  it  made  mine  water." 
Here  the  gentlemen,  both  young  and  old,  indulged 
in  a  laugh.     "  Wonderful  teeth." 

"  I  never  saw  an  under-jaw  like  that,  with  the 
same  conformation  of  features,  that  did  not  do  a 
great  deal  of  mischief  or  a  great  deal  of  good.  Let 
us  hope  it  may  be  the  latter.     Here  we  are." 

"  Good  afternoon.  Doctor.  I'm  A^ery  much 
obliged  to  you."  Saying  which,  Mr.  Millingen 
took  out  his  latch-key  and  let  himself  into  his 
modest  abode. 

The  Doctor  was  right.  That  night  the  baby 
died. 

About  ten  o'clock  the  same  evenino;  the  nurse 
came  to  call  Madame  Rosenfels. 

"  Is  the  child  worse,  nurse  ?  " 

"  She's  quieter,  ma'am,  but  it's  very  near  all 
over.     Poor  little  thinor  | " 

o 

Madame  Rosenfels  followed  her  out  of  the  room, 
and  went  up-stairs.  The  little  thing  had  subsided 
into  utter  exhaustion  from  her  prcAdous  paroxysms. 
Her  forehead  was  moist,  and  her  hair  hung  in 
damp  masses  round  her  pillow.     Her  eyes  were 

VOL.  I.  P 


6^  THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

half  closed;  and  she  uttered  a  low  moan  as  the 
ayah  moistened  her  parched  and  blackened  lips 
from  time  to  time.  Madame  Kosenfels  came  to- 
wards the  hed,  and  looked  sorrowfully  on  the  little 
sufferer.  She  had  been  constantly  to  see  them 
both  during  the  few  days  of  their  illness,  and  the 
contrast  was  even  painfully  striking  between  her 
present  prostration  and  her  late  delirium.  She 
looked  at  her  companion,  who  was  sleeping  peace- 
fully, and  in  a  fair  way  for  recovery.  Then  she  re- 
turned to  the  sufferer  ;  and  as  she  looked  steadily 
at  her,  perhaps  into  the  future,  her  eyes  grew  dim, 
and  tears  fell  heavily  and  slowly,  not  in  showers, 
over  the  counterpane  of  the  little  crib. 

"  Baba,  let  me  have  that  chair."  The  ayah 
made  way  for  her  mistress,  who,  taking  the  child 
in  her  arms,  and  wrapping  her  closely  in  the  shawls 
and  blankets  which  surrounded  her,  pressed  her 
closely  to  her  bosom  and  sat  rocking  her  by  the 
fire. 

The  little  hands  played  at  first  over  the  beauti- 
ful features ;  lisped  the  name  of  Aunty,  which  she 
had  been  taught;  and  then  put  its  gentle  heavy 
head  upon  the  softest  pillow  that  human  sorrow 
ever  knows — a  woman's  breast. 


MOTHEELESS  CHILDEEX.  67 

The  breathing  was  loud  and  irregular  at  first. 
Then,  as  the  hands  grew  tighter  round  the  neck,  it 
became  calmer  and  more  regular. 

Madame  continued  to  rock,  and  looked  past  the 
tiny  head  into  the  waning  fire.  Xot  a  word,  not  a 
motion  was  heard  in  the  room;  and  those  large 
bright  eyes  were  fixed  in  sad  and  gloomy  specula- 
tion. An  hour  had  passed,  when  the  door-bell 
rang.  ^^  The  doctor,"  said  nui'se ;  and  Madame 
Rosenfels  woke  from  her  reverie.  She  listened; 
not  to  the  door,  or  the  step,  as  it  tm-ned  into  the 
drawing-room,  but  to  the  breathing  of  her  little 
bm-then.  It  was  hushed.  It  was  gone.  How 
still  and  quiet !  She  put  her  gently  down  into  her 
lap.  Alas  I  she  had  gone  to  sleep  in  Aunt  Ady's 
arms,  and  she  never  woke  again. 

From  this  period  nothing  remarkable  happened. 
Time  wore  on.  Madame  Rosenfels  and  her  little 
protegee  continued  to  five  together  in  the  greatest 
comfort  and  harmony.  The  ayah  liad  been  sent 
back  to  India  with  a  family  who  required  her 
services;  and  !Mr.  Millingen  had  called  to  inquire 
after  Madame  and  her  sm'viving  companion,  not 
of  course  with  any  view  to  his  professional  ser- 
vices. 

f2 


G8     THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

Madame  paid  his  account  with  many  expressions 
of  gratitude  for  his  services. 

"And  would  you  only  be  kind  enougli  to  correct 
the  name  of  my  poor  little  girl  on  your  account  to 
Margaret  ?  Margaret  Carloss,  not  Violet  —  the 
other  is  Violet.  She  scarcely  knows  her  name,  to 
be  sure,  as  she  has  always  been  called  Pet.  As 
she  gets  older,  we  must  give  her  her  right  title." 

"  A  thousand  pardons,  madame,  certainly.  I 
thought  our  poor  little  patient  was  Violet,"  and 
then  Mr.  Millingen  hesitated.  "  By  the  way,  ex- 
cuse my  referring  to  a  painful  subject,  but  I  rather 
think"  (he  might  have  said  he  was  quite  sure,  but 
everybody  adopts  euphemisms  at  times)  "  that  I 
gave  the  wrong  name  to  the  registrar  at  the  funeral. 
I  w^ill  see  about  its  being  corrected  before  it  is 
placed  upon  the  gravestone." 

"  Oh  !  tliank  you,  very  much,  for  your  kindness. 
May  I  rely  upon  you  ?  " 

"  Indeed  you  may,  Madame  Rosenfels." 

Madame  Kosenfels  took  a  dislike  to  Southsea. 
Comfortable  as  it  was,  much  as  she  valued  the 
services  of  Mi\  Millingen,  she  could  not  but  feel 
the  recollection  of  her  first  arrival  to  be  painful. 
She   should  leave  it  shortly.      What  for?     Two 


MOTHERLESS  CHILDEEN.  69 

tilings  mainly  guided  her.  Masters  for  Violet 
as  she  grew  up,  and  society  for  herself.  Old 
Doctor  Jones  was  nearly  right.  j\Iadame  was 
a  woman  of  active  resolution.  In  one  week  her 
bills  were  paid,  her  rooms  were  vacant,  and  she 
and  her  lyrotegee  were  gone.  Her  servant,  one 
maid  to  whom  she  entrusted  her  little  girl,  and  who 
waited  upon  herself,  received  a  month's  wages,  and 
was  gone  too. 

Where  to  ?  That  was  a  great  question  with  her. 
A  spa,  a  cathedral  city,  the  seaside,  or  a  London 
subm'b  ?  Leamington  ?  Cheerful,  clean,  commo- 
dious, witli  a  pretty  country.  Kot  inexpensive, 
though,  and  the  sort  of  place  where  your  next  door 
neighbour  knows  what  you  have  for  dinner;  al- 
most whether  it  agrees  with  you  or  not.  Bath  ? 
Just  as  bad,  and  much  hotter.  Cheltenham? 
Madame  Rosenfels  had  no  particular  desire  to  fall 
into  the  society  of  old  Lidians.  Chichester,  Salis- 
bmy,  Canterbury  ?  Clerical  society  had  no  fasci- 
nations for  Madame,  and  canons  are  married  or 
unmarriageable.  Brighton?  She  hesitated  some 
time  over  this.  Considered  the  di'ainage  question 
seriously.  It  appeared  to  have  most  of  the  incon- 
veniences of  London  without  its  conveniences.     A 


70     THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

suburb  then  ?  within  easy  reach  of  the  metropoHs  : 
tolerably  good  society,  a  dry  soil,  a  small  detached 
house,  and  the  sympathy  of  neighbours  without  the 
inconvenient  intrusion  of  friends. 

She  made  inquiry  in  town,  and  found  on  the 
books  of  a  house-agent  what  she  wanted  at  Lym- 
mersfield. 

"  There's  a  small  house  to  be  let  now,  ma'am: 
you  can  have  a  card  to  see  it.  It  is  detached,  has 
a  small  garden,  and  may  be  let  for  a  term  of  years 
on  lease,  or  for  one.  Rent  moderate.  Say  sixty 
pounds  a  year.  Stable  and  coach-house,  small  but 
commodious."  With  which,  he  took  his  pen  from 
behind  his  ear,  and  commenced  writing  again,  as  if 
his  life  depended  upon  it;  as  the  manner  of  such 
persons  is." 

"  And  the  society?" 

"  A  1."  Here  he  looked  up,  and  struck  by  the 
figure  before  him,  added,  ''  I  beg  pardon,  ma'am ; 
very  good  indeed.     We  live  there." 

This  seemed  hardly  to  reassure  Madame  Rosen- 
fels  quite  so  much  as  it  ought  to  have  done.  She 
thought,  however,  that  it  was  hard  to  condemn  the 
whole  village  for  one ;  so  she  went  fm'ther. 

"  And  when  could  I  have  possession  ?  " 


MOTHEELESS  CHILDREN.  71 

"  Immediately,  to-day,  if  it  suits  you/'  said  the 
clerk,  writing  away. 

"Is  it  furnished r' 

"  Fui'nished  or  unfurnished  are  our  instructions. 
Of  course  the  rent  is  higher  furnished.  Eighty- 
five.  There's  a  card  of  admission.  Only  half  an 
hour  from  London  Bridge." 

"  Rather  a  bad  part  of  London  to  come  to." 

"  Pardon,  ma'am,  we  find  it  uncommon  conve- 
nient." Which  most  likely  he  did,  as  he  was 
writmg  upon  Fish-street  Hill. 

This  constant  reference  to  "  us"  and  "  I "  jarred 
upon  Madame  Rosenfels  uncomfortably.  Reflect- 
ing, however,  that  she  would  not  probably  be 
thro\\Ti  much  into  the  society  of  the  young  man 
wdio  was  addressing  her,  she  merely  added :  "  Then, 
if  you  will  give  me  a  card,  I'll  go  down  at  once." 

"  Very  good,  ma'am,"  rejoined  he,  signing  his 
name  with  a  flouiish.  "  Over  the  bridge,  first  on 
the  left.  Lymmersfield  and  Flummerxton  Station, 
half  an  hour's  drive,  lovely  country,  sandy  soil, 
and  beautiful  church,  lately  built,  and  all  open 
seats,  quite  the  right  thing.     Morning,  ma'am." 

Madame  Rosenfels  found  the  house  and  the 
village   nearly  what   she  wanted.     She   took   the 


72 

house  at  once  ;  and  by  the  time  our  acquaintance, 
Harry  Colville,  arrived  there,  she  and  Violet  Car- 
loss  were  as  much  an  established  fact,  and  likely 
to  remain  so,  as  the  new  open-seated  church,  the 
gentlemanly  grey-headed  old  vicar,  Suet  the 
butcher,  established  in  1793,  and  the  parish 
pump.  This  latter  institution  was  somewhat  re- 
markable, for  it  had  been  erected  by  the  kindness 
of  a  neighbouring  nobleman  on  some  auspicious 
event  of  his  life  (birth  or  marriage,  anything  but 
his  death,  I  believe),  and  opened  by  two  most 
worthy  churchwardens  and  an  overseer,  who  re- 
galed the  school-children  from  its  ample  resources 
subsequently  to  their  singing  a  hymn,  com- 
mencing, 

As  pants  the  'art  for  cooling  streams, 

an  obvious  compliment  to  the  professors  of  hy- 
draulic science.  The  history  of  Madame  Eosenfels, 
and  the  relation  of  how  she  came  where  she  was, 
is  too  important  to  begin  at  the  end  of  a  chapter. 


73 


CHAPTER  V. 


MADAME  ROSENTELS. 


The  world  was  sad  !  the  garden  was  a  wild ! 
And  man  the  hermit  sighed — till  woman  smiled. 

Casipbell. 

Adelaide  Eosekfels,  7iee  Yon  Gasteiii,  had 
been  brouglit  up  in  a  false  position.  It  is  the 
worst  thing  that  can  happen  to  anybody.  It 
damps  energy,  misrepresents  reaHty,  encourages  a 
spirit  of  petulance  and  discontent,  and  perverts 
valuable  faculties  from  their  proper  objects  to  the 
worst  exercise  of  their  powers. 

Mademoiselle  von  Gastein  was  of  German  pa- 
rentage, but  born  in  England.  Her  father  had 
been  one  of  those  persons  who,  nobly  born,  could 
never  have  been   notorious,  but  for  one  of  those 


74 

numerous  Smeutes  which  arc  of  the  utmost  signifi- 
cance to  Germans,  and  of  none  whatever  to  any- 
body else.  Enrrland  became  his  home.  lie  mif'ht 
as  well  have  been  hanged  in  his  own  country  for 
any  good  he  was  likely  to  do  here. 

He  brought  up  his  daughter  with  a  theoretical 
notion  of  her  own  importance,  and  a  practical 
knowledge  of  his  own  insignificance. 

As  she  grew  up  she  became  exceedingly  hand- 
some, clever,  and  unscrupulous.  She  detected  the 
value  of  an  empty  name  in  a  country  where  there 
is  a  place  for  everything  but  incapacity.  She 
studied  perseveringly,  and  in  process  of  time,  in 
spite  of  father  and  mother,  apprenticed  herself  in 
a  school  of  some  eminence ;  ostensibly  as  a  sort  of 
parlour  boarder,  actually  as  a  companion  and 
teacher  of  German  and  French;  of  both  which 
languages,  from  the  father  and  mother  s  instruc- 
tion and  habit  of  conversation,  she  was  a  perfect 
master.  The  extreme  beauty  of  her  face,  as  she 
ripened  into  womanhood,  secured  her  plenty  of 
favourites  among  the  pupils ;  and  as  Adelaide  von 
Gastein  was  intent  only  on  making  her  way  in 
life,  at  any  cost,  she  attracted  the  elder  girls  by 
her  injudicious  indulgence  of  their  foibles. 


MADAME  EOSEXFELS.  75 

Amongst  tlie  most  constant  and  culpable  of  her 
intimates  was  a  weak,  pretty,  vain  person,  an 
orphan  of  good  position  and  fortune.  Mary 
Lanorlev  could  never  have  been  an  estimable 
girl;  but  she  might  have  been  less  selfish  and 
self-indulgent,  had  she  chosen  a  companion  of 
higher  principles,  or  one  less  fixed  in  bad  ones. 
Interest  made  Adelaide  von  Gastein  unwilling  to 
lose  sight  of  her ;  and  when  she  left  Momit 
Chesterton,  to  plunge  into  her  vortex  of  London 
society  (there  are  vortices  enough  to  swallow  of  all 
sorts),  her  friend  made  a  point  of  spending  a  week 
or  two  T^-ith  her  eA'ery  three  or  foui'  months,  when 
she  hstened  to  possible  maniages,  and  probable 
proposals,  and  exacted  in  return  very  substantial 
offerinfTS  for  her  forbearance. 

When  Miss  Langley  did  really  many  Major 
Carloss,  a  perfectly  well-bred  and  singularly 
inane  old  gentleman,  with  an  eye-glass  and  a 
wig,  creaky  boots,  and  a  well-starched  cravat; 
when  she  transferred  herself  and  her  Three  per 
Cents,  to  the  keeping  of  a  man  old  enough  to  be 
her  father,  for  no  earthly  reason  but  to  avenge 
some  fancied  slla;ht  of  some  vomifjer  lover,  Ade- 
laide  von  Gastein  assisted  at  the  ceremony.     A 


7G  THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AXD  SON. 

year  or  two  later,  when  the  ^lajor  accepted  a 
lucrative  post  as  one  of  the  now  defunct  Com- 
pany's servants,  the  two  women  swore  eternal 
friendship  on  the  shrine  of  mutual  convenience  and 
confidence ;  and  the  one  gave  and  the  other 
accepted  an  invitation,  as  particular  as  it  well 
could  be,  to  go  out  to  Indiaj  sliould  matters  not 
take  a  favourable  turn  in  England. 

Matters  did  not  take  a  favourable  tm'n  in 
England ;  whicli  means  that  young  Lord  Splinter- 
Bars,  wdio  had  been  feeling,  as  far  as  he  could 
feel,  and  expressing,  but  not  in  sufficiently  explicit 
language,  his  intense  admiration  for  Adelaide  von 
Gastein,  suddenly  married  Lady  Rachel  Hop- 
pington,  sister  and  co-heiress  of  the  Marchioness 
Turniptop,  who  made  the  match  to  save  her 
cousin  Splinter-Bars,  as  she  said,  from  a  hand- 
some adventuress.  But  women  are  very  suspicious 
of  one  another. 

When  Adelaide  von  Gastein  sailed  from  Encr- 
land  she  was  the  possessor  of  a  very  small  fortune ; 
but  it  was  a  something.  Her  parents  had  both 
died ;  her  mother  some  years  before  ;  her  father 
but  lately — she  was  still  in  mourning,  and  it  was 
vastly  becoming  to  her.     From  him  she  inherited 


MADAME  EOSEXFELS.  77 

wliat  remained  of  a  ]3roperty  which,  as  he  repre- 
sented, had  dwindled  from  a  magnificent  estate 
to  something  under  a  thousand  pounds.  If  a 
shark  is  attracted  by  nothing  short  of  a  man's 
thigh-bone  or  a  leg  of  mutton,  a  j^erch,  when 
hungry,  will  run  at  anything. 

Such  a  perch  was  on  board  the  good  ship  Cor- 
morant, bound  for  Madras  in  the  autumn  of  1830, 
in  the  shape  of  a  fellow-countiyman.  M.  Rosenfels 
was  a  good-looking  man,  and  not  so  blaze  by  the 
charms  of  Parisian  life  but  that  he  could  feel  for 
the  lonely  situation  of  so  handsome  a  person  as 
Fraulein  von  Gastein. 

The  voyage  out  was  not  unprofitably  employed 
on  his  part.  He  looked  like  an  idler;  he  was  a 
gambler;  who  had  passed  through  the  fiery- 
ordeals  of  Paris,  Hombui'g,  and  Baden.  Those 
climates  did  not  ao-ree  with  him.  The  homao-e 
which  was  due  to  his  talents  ^\'as  not  tendered  to 
his  reputation.  He  was  seeking  India,  where  he 
trusted  to  lay  subaltern  improvidence  under  con- 
tribution, and  an  extra  thousand  would  be  of 
infinite  service  at  the  commencement  of  his  cam- 
paign. If  it  must  be  saddled  with  something,  why 
not  with  so  strikino;  a  woman  as  mademoiselle? 


78 

The  young  lady  was  touclied.  She  liad  come  out 
to  he  married ;  wliy  not  immediately  ?  The 
strongest-minded  women,  and  Adelaide  was  far 
from  heing  the  weakest,  are  vulnerahle  at  some 
point.  They  have  a  tender  heel,  and  judicious 
flattery  points  the  shaft  with  unerring  aim.  On 
their  arrival  she  sought  the  house  and  the  counsel 
of  her  friend,  who  was  nothing  loth  that  her  dear 
Adelaide  should  follow  her  own  example. 

It  took  but  little  time  to  undeceive  her  as  to 
the  temper,  resources,  and  honesty  of  her  husband. 
Madame  Rosenfels  had  scarcely  parted  with  her 
last  hundred  pounds  to  this  worthless  scoundrel 
(for  what  will  not  a  w^oman  do  for  any  thing  or 
body  she  loves  ?),  when  a  quarrel  took  place  at  the 
gambling- table  of  some  officers  up  the  country. 
Monsieur  was  detected  with  the  king  concealed  in 
his  hand,  and  was  kicked  ignominiously  down- 
stairs. As  he  had  now  got  rid  of  all  his  money, 
all  his  credit,  and  the  greater  portion  of  brains  he 
ever  had  possessed,  he  blew  out  the  small  re- 
mainder of  them  with  a  pocket-pistol.  An  unbe- 
liever has  just  courage  enough  to  show  the  world 
how  much  afraid  he  is  of  life. 

No  one  could  help  sympathising  with  the   de- 


MADAME  EOSENFELS.  79 

serted  lady;  and  Major  Carloss,  who  was  nmcli 
from  home,  in  consequence  of  his  appointment, 
was  dehghted  to  obtain  for  his  pretty  Httle  wife  so 
desu-able  a  companion.  Mrs.  Carloss  wanted  no- 
thing but  some  bosom  into  which  to  pour  her 
senseless  comj^Iaints  of  her  husband,  the  extent  of 
whose  injustice  seemed  to  be,  that  he  was  thirty 
years  older  than  his  young  wife.  Could  any  one 
answer  the  purpose  better  than  her  old  bosom 
friend,  wlw  at  the  end  of  a  couple  of  years'  sepa- 
ration found  herself  in  want  of  a  home,  and  all  the 
necessities  of  civilised  life  ? 

The  two  ladies  lived  very  much  together ;  for  the 
married  life  of  Major  and  Mrs.  Carloss  was  not 
a  happy  one,  and  he  made  his  visits  few  and  far 
bietween.  The  Major  had  reason  to  complain, 
though  he  did  not  go  the  right  way  to  soothe  nor 
to  subdue  a  frivolous,  but  pretty  and  inexperienced 
woman,  who  looked  for  attention  and  flattery  as 
regularly  as  for  her  daily  food.  It  would  be  too 
much  at  this  time  to  say  that  the  conduct  of  Mrs. 
Major  Carloss  had  become  criminal;  it  was  only 
vicious  enough  to  induce  the  suspicion  that  it 
might  become  so. 

Circumstances  favoured  the  conclusion. 


80  THE  BEAUCLEKCS,  FATIIEE  AND  SON. 

One  of  the  handsomest  and  most  reclierche 
persons  in  India  was  Colonel  Beauclerc,  the  father 
of  Frank,  who  has  already  been  presented  to  the 
reader.  A  chetah  hunt  or  two,  witli  some  wild 
shooting,  brought  him  into  the  Madras  Presidency  ; 
and  as  that  kind  of  meeting  seldom  terminated 
without  some  sort  of  gambling,  the  least  offensive 
form  in  which  that  fashionable  \dce  can  present 
itself  was  postponed  for  a  "  finish."  The  Colonel 
backed  himself  to  ride  one  of  his  own  chargers, 
which  he  had  brought  from  England,  against  a 
native  Arab,  over  four-and-twenty  hurdles,  distri- 
buted over  three  miles  of  country,  for  a  consider- 
able number  of  rupees.  The  EngUsh  horse  had 
to  all  intents  and  purposes  won,  when  at  the  last 
hurdle,  which  was  insecurely  fastened,  he  slipped, 
and  catching  the  top  of  it  with  his  fore-legs,  it  came 
down.  Unable  to  release  his  feet  from  the  bars, 
the  Colonel  and  his  horse  rolled  helplessly  over, 
and  when  the  latter  extricated  himself  the  former 
did  not.  He  was  carried  to  the  nearest  convenient 
house,  which  happened  to  be  that  of  Major  Carloss, 
at  that  time  the  residence  of  his  wife  and  her 
companion. 

The  nursing  proved   a  long    and    interesting 


MADAME  KOSEXFELS.  81 

business ;  and  after  some  weeks,  wlien  the  shoulder 
was  put  right,  and  the  inteiTial  injuries  were  de- 
clared to  be  reduced,  the  handsome  Colonel  lingered 
in  a  mlling  captivity.  He  had  been  a  widow^er 
but  two  years.  His  reputation  might  have  been 
of  service  to  his  hostess  if  "  f orew^arned  "  always 
meant  "  forearmed,"  but  it  does  not ;  and  when  at 
length  absolute  necessity  compelled  his  retm'n  to 
the  Bengal  Presidency,  he  carried  vrith  him  no  di- 
minution of  his  reputation  for  gallantry. 

It  was  thought  that  the  birth  of  a  daughter, 
some  time  afterwards,  might  have  mended  matters 
in  the  ^lajor's  bungalow.  It  might  have  been  so, 
and  frequently  is.  In  the  present  case  it  Avas  not. 
Indeed,  it  almost  appeared  that  this  messenger  of 
peace  w^as  rather  a  cause  of  regret  to  both. 

When  the  weak  and  the  strong  come  together 
in  mutual  confidence,  the  weak  get  the  worst  of 
it.  They  have  always  something  to  reveal.  The 
strong  are  guilty  of  no  such  infirmity,  for  they 
keep  their  revelations  to  themselves.  Mary  Car- 
loss  had  plenty  to  tell,  and  she  told  it.  It  scarcely 
astonished  her  friend,  but  it  is  not  too  much  to  say 
that  part  of  her  story  shocked  her.  Adelaide  had 
few  moral  doubts  about  her  friend's  weakness,  but 

VOL.  I.  G 


82  THE  CEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

she  scarcely  expected  to  have  had  them  cleared  up 
as  they  were.  There  arc  secrets  of  which  it  is  ex- 
ceedingly unpleasant  to  be  the  depository.  It  is 
but  justice  to  her  to  say  that  she  had  nothing  to 
confess,  unless  it  were  a  dogged  perseverance  to 
regard  the  world  as  her  oyster,  and  to  open  it. 
She  began  with  her  friend,  and  a  very  good  specu- 
lation it  was  to  trade  on.  In  this  partnership  of 
infirmities  she  brought  less  capital  to  the  concern, 
but  had  by  far  the  more  profitable  situation  in  the 
firm.  The  senior  partner  sometimes  sighed  for 
more  independent  action,  and  it  came  to  her  sooner 
than  she  thought  for,  and  differently  from  her  ex- 
pectations. 

Whatever  Major  Carloss's  short-comings  as  the 
husband  of  Mary  Langley,  he  was  a  gentleman, 
and  always  treated  his  wife's  guest  with  the  cour- 
tesy due  to  a  lady.  On  the  present  occasion  he 
did  more. 

"  Madame  Kosenfels,"  said  he,  during  one  of 
his  occasional  visits,  "  I  have  a  proposal  to  make 
to  you,  which  I  think  may  be  mutually  convenient ; 
that  is,  if  you  have  any  idea  of  ever  returning  to 
England." 


MADAME  EOSENFELS.  83 

"  I  have  been  a  long  trespasser  upon  your  kind- 
ness  " 

"  Not  at  all,  maclame.  You  have  rendered  me 
an  essential  service  by  your  goodness  to  Mary,  and 
I  can  scarcely  express  to  you  how  much  I  feel  it." 

The  Major  was  perfectly  sincere,  and  Adelaide 
Rosenfels  saw  that  he  was  so.  She  expressed  her 
satisfaction. 

"  What  I  was  going  to  propose  to  you  is  this.  I 
am  anxious  that  Violet  should  have  the  benefit  of 
an  entirely  English  education." 

''  I  can  easily  believe  it,"  rejoined  the  widow. 

"  I  know  no  one  so  capable  of  superintending  it 
as  yourself." 

Madame  Rosenfels  felt  sincerely  flattered. 

''  This  little  girl  will  have  a  handsome  provision. 
I  propose  to  settle  upon  her  the  sum  of  ten  thou- 
sand pounds;  the  interest  of  this  money  to  be 
placed  in  your  hands  to  be  expended  in  her  educa- 
tion. I  should  propose  to  make  you  her  sole  guar- 
dian and  trustee,  in  conjunction  with  an  old  friend 
of  mine  in  England.  At  my  death  I  shall  leave 
her  an  additional  ten  thousand,  should  there  be  no 
reason  for  altering  my  intention  in  this  respect." 
g2 


84     THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

The  Major  drew  himself  up,  feeling  that  he  was 
acting  liberally  by  the  little  girl.  ]\Iadame  Eosen- 
fels  bowed  a  gratified  smile. 

"  The  income,"  continued  he,  "  from  ten  tliou- 
sand  pounds  judiciously  invested,  will  produce 
about  five  hundred  a  year ;  and  with  good  manage- 
ment I  think  two  ladies  may  live  upon  it  comfortably 
for  the  present. 

Again  the  widow  Rosenfels  signified  her  assent 
to  this  proposition 

"  But  I  have  another  scheme  by  which  the  in- 
come of  the  lady  who  shall  undertake  this  charge 
may  be  materially  increased.  I  have  a  niece,  of 
whom  you  have  heard  me  speak,  Margaret  Carloss, 
the  daughter  of  my  brother  Frederick  :  he  is  not 
rich,  not  so  well  off  as  he  might  have  been;  but 
I  have  thought  that  with  the  one  hundred  and 
twenty  pounds  a  year  which  he  proposes  to  add  to 
it,  a  very  good  income  may  be  made  by  taking  the 
two  children  together.  Now  I  should  like  your 
opinion  of  my  project." 

Madame  Rosenfels  was  a  lady  firm  of  purpose ; 
and  that  purpose  had  been  a  home  for  herself 
whenever  she  saw  the  opportunity  of  making  it  a 
desirable  one. 


MADAME  KOSENFELS.  85 

"  I  think  well  of  your  project,  Major  Carloss. 
But  in  my  position  it  requires  consideration." 

"  Pray  take  your  time,  and  give  me  an  answer 
when  it  suits  you  to  do  so :  there  is  no  hurry." 

"  It  is  not  so  much  time,  as  an  explicit  under- 
standing of  the  terms.  May  I  ask  a  few  ques- 
tions?" 

"  As  many  as  you  please. 

"  Do  I  understand  that  the  control  of  this  income 
will  be  entirely  in  my  hands  ?  " 

"  Entirely.  If  I  had  not  sufficient  confidence 
in  your  discretion  I  should  never  have  made  the 
proposition." 

Madame  Rosenfels  felt  more  than  flattered,  but 
she  knew  that  flattery  was  but  light  sustenance. 

"  The  control  of  the  property  will  be ?" 

"  In  the  hands  of  yourself  and  my  old  friend 
General  Fletcher.  It  will,  however,  be  handed 
over  to  my  daughter  intact  upon  her  marriage,  or 
upon  her  attaining  the  age  of  twenty-three." 

It  was  a  long  time  to  look  forward  to,  and  a 
handsome  income  for  some  years. 

"  And  of  the  hundred  and  twenty  pounds  a  year 
for  Margaret?" 

"  On  precisely  the  same  conditions.     It  is,  how- 


86  THE  r.EAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

ever,  my  1)rother's  intention  to  liave  Margaret  out 
again  when  she  shall  liave  finished  her  education. 
Still  I  think  that  can  hardly  be  for  many  years  to 
come." 

"  And  the  expenses  of  the  voyage  ?" 

"  Will  be  defrayed  by  me.  The  money  will  be 
properly  invested  in  the  joint  names  of  yourself 
and  General  Fletcher,  and  a  year's  income  in  ad- 
vance placed  to  }'our  account  at  your  banker's,  on 
your  arrival  in  England." 

"  May  I  give  my  answer  to-morrow.  Major  ?  It 
is  a  great  responsibility,  but  the  liberality  of  ^'our 
conditions  holds  out  a  great  inducement." 

"  I  am  glad  you  think  so.  In  the  event  of  my 
death  it  will  be  equally  secure  to  you.  Of  one 
thing,  however,  I  shall  warn  you.  Do  not  let 
Violet  indulge  hopes  that  it  will  ever  be  increased." 

"  Certainly  not." 

"  It  is  a  great  object  to  me,  moreover,  that  the 
cousins  shovdd  be  together,  and  that  the  tie  should 
be  strengthened  in  every  respect.  ]My  brother, 
though  a  poor  man,  holds  a  high  position,  and  in 
every  respect  but  that  of  fortune  is  my  superior." 
As  the  Major  said  this,  however,  he  drew  him- 
self up,  looked  at  his  boots,  which  were  of  the  first 


MADAME  EOSEXFELS.  87 

order,  and  pushed  up  his  neckcloth.  At  that  mo- 
ment his  brother  must  have  been  a  great  man 
indeed. 

Within  three  days  the  preliminaries  were  settled. 
Servants  were  en^acped.  Little  Maro-aret  and  her 
ayah  joined  the  ^Major's  circle,  neai'  Madras,  from 
the  Bengal  Presidency.  AYithin  two  or  three 
months  adieux  had  been  made.  The  ladies  wept ; 
one  of  them  bitterly,  for  she  was  weak,  the  other 
one  conventionally,  for  she  was  strong.  The 
Major  was  but  slightly  affected ;  but  he  was  the 
gentleman  to  the  last,  and  pressed  on  Madame 
Kosenfels  a  very  handsome  present  at  parting. 
The  voyage  was  auspicious  ;  and  thus  it  was  that  a 
veiy  handsome  lady  and  two  little  girls  reached 
Southsea. 

Madame  Kosenfels's  triumph  may  be  summed  up 
in  a  few  words.  A  handsome  income  for  some 
years,  and  a  few  confidences  which  were  worth 
somethinsj  whilst  ^larv  Carloss  was  alive. 

But  life  is  uncertain  ;  for  one  of  the  two  children 
was  dead  within  three  months  of  her  return  to 
England.  It  was  a  contingency  for  which  Adelaide 
Rosenfels  had  not  bargained. 

It  was  a  very  trying  time  for  that  lady,  but  she 


got  over  it.  Two  letters  were  despatched  to  India. 
One  plunged  a  father  in  immediate  sorrow ;  the 
other  satisfied  a  mother  that  her  darling  was  still 
alive.  As  to  the  Major,  he  secured  a  considerable 
sum  to  the  protectress  of  his  daughter  in  the  event 
of  another  such  calamity. 

But  the  child  grew  and  prospered,  and  learnt 
very  little,  having  but  slight  inclination  for  what 
is  called  book-learning.  She  "was  healthy  and 
-wealthy,  but  not  over-wise.  Loving  and  lovable 
at  the  time  we  speak  of,  wdien  Frank  Beauclerc 
was  still  at  Grammerton,  and  Madame  Kosenfels 
occupied  the  detached  cottage  at  Lymmersfield. 

Major  Carloss  had  one  son  by  a  former  wife, 
many  years  older  than  Violet.  He  it  was  who 
w^ould  remain  in  the  upper  fifth  form  at  Grammer- 
ton ;  who  would  lead  armies  in  punts ;  Avho  fished 
Frank  Beauclerc  out  of  the  Saber  with  a  boat- 
hook  ;  and  w^ho  had  joined  the  Hussars  in 

County  Cork  ;  good  luck  to  him ! 


89 


CHAPTER  yi. 

FKANK  BECOMES  A  MAX. 

Imberbis  juvenis,  tandem  custode  remoto. 

Ars  Poet.     HoR. 

Now  we  start  fair  again.  Five  chapters  and  a 
great  deal  of  energy  have  been  devoted  to  bringing 
the  candidates  up  to  the  scratch.  At  last  they 
are  all  there.  About  five  years  have  transpired 
since  our  last  meeting  at  Grammerton ;  and  now 
we  are  coming  back  again  to  look  at  little  Frank 
Beauclerc,  and  see  what  he  has  grown  into,  and 
what  he  has  been  doing.  We  can  afford  to  leave 
the  Colvilles  and  Eosenfels'  elsewhere  for  a  time 
till  we  want  them.  Then  we  can  pick  them  up 
again  and  let  them  down,  which  makes  imaginary 
acquaintances  so  much  more  agreeable  to  manage 
than  those  of  real  life. 


90  THE  BEAUCLErtCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

Speaking  of  real  life,  by  the  >vay,  I  must  beg  of 
my  acquaintances  not  to  invest  themselves  with  the 
characters  scattered  about  in  my  books,  nor  indeed 
to  dress  up  their  friends  or  mine  in  such  badly 
fitting  robes.  I  can  make  a  coat  to  fit,  or  a  cap,  as 
•well  as  most  men;  but  I  must  protest  against 
this  habit  of  regarding  these  pages  as  an  old 
clothes'  shop,  full  of  garments  to  be  clapped 
upon  somebody  or  other.  You  see,  if  the  waist- 
coat fits,  the  chances  arc  that  the  coat  does 
not;  or  if  the  coat  seems  positively  made  to 
order,  be  sure  the  breeches  will  prove  baggy.  If 
you  insist  upon  putting  on  these  garments  at  ran- 
dom, O  reader,  do  not  be  disgusted  or  offended  at 
your  own  appearance,  as  a  Holy  well-street  swell. 
If  you  are  not  in  such  a  hurry  to  recognise  yourself 
in  your  wretched  costume,  others  will  not  be  so 
ready  to  do  so  either ;  excepting  your  very  best 
friends  indeed,  who  have  alway*  something  plea- 
sant to  say,  and  invariably  think  they  have  caught 
sight  of  you,  where  you  would  prefer  not  to  have 
been  found  at  all. 

Let  Strabo  squint,  and  Partus  have  a  slight  cast 
in  the  eye.  Strabo  natm\ally  becomes  Pa3tus.  A 
knock-kneed  young  rascal  may  well  style  himself 


FEANK  BECOMES  A  MAN.  91 

Varus,  and  he  of  the  club-foot  become  a  Scaurus. 
But  why  reverse  this  natural  order  ?  Why  delight 
in  accumulating  on  your  own  head  all  the  depra- 
vity of  the  rascal,  or  the  extravagance  and  inanity 
of  the  fool  of  the  story,  because  the  one  wears 
the  same  coloured  clothes  or  the  same  shaped 
hat  as  yourself,  and  the  other  is  blest  with  the 
same  superabundance  of  rank  or  resources? 
What  good-natured  friends  you  must  have ! 

But  I  have  let  slip  my  old  acquaintance  Frank, 
of  whose  welfare  I  professed  in  the  beginning  of 
this  chapter  to  be  curious. 

What  has  he  grown  into  ?  Legs  and  wings,  of 
course.  All  fellows  do  about  the  age  of  eighteen. 
At  least  those  do  who  do  not  become  set  and  stiff ; 
and  though  they  be  strong,  they  have  not  those 
characteristics  of  elegance  and  activity  which  are 
essential  in  heroes,  from  the  fashionable  highway- 
man upwards.  He  had  good  honest  open  eyes, 
which  looked  men  straight  in  the  face — and  women 
too,  sometimes,  very  much  to  their  detriment.  It 
was  a  fine  manly  face,  with  a  certain  amount  of 
softness  about  it,  which  did  not  belie  the  natural 
character,  but  which  was  all  the  better  for  the 
capital  training  it  had  undergone. 


92     THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

And  what  has  he  been  doing?  Not  a  great 
deal,  I  admit.  His  intellect  was  made  for  wear, 
not  for  show.  "  It  wonld  wash,"  so  I  think  Swan 
and  Edgar  would  have  described  it.  Fast  colours 
in  the  human  subject  do  not  always  wash ;  only 
occasionally.  What  has  he  been  doing  ?  His  pro- 
nunciation of  French  was  execrable ;  but,  having 
professed  to  learn  it,  he  Avas  not  ignorant  of  that 
language.  Arithmetic  he  believed  to  be  useful  in 
his  intended  profession,  and  mathematics  generally, 
but  he  did  not  know  much  of  either  yet ;  he  could 
construe  extempore  a  moderately  difficult  passage 
of  a  Greek  and  Latin  author  or  two,  enjoyed 
Thucydides  and  Herodotus,  appreciated  the  wit  of 
a  language  more  than  its  construction,  and  wrote 
good  Latin  verses.  Knew  a  great  deal  of  Grecian 
histoiy,  but  was  not  so  fond  of  the  Romans,  whom 
he  regarded  as  of  a  harder  nature  than  the  Greeks. 
Was  no  great  hand  at  the  "  ologies,"  and  always 
averred  that  the  first  step  to  success  was  the  study 
of  the  things  that  lived  on  the  crust  of  the  globe, 
and  afterwards  those  that  w^ere  buried  inside  it. 
In  fact,  his  friends  called  him  a  very  sharp  fellow, 
wdiich  he  w\as  not ;  but  he  had  been  doing  enough 


FKAXK  BECOMES  A  MAX.  93 

to  become  a  good  scholar,  and  to  have  balanced 
his  mind  in  such  a  manner  that  difficulties  were 
sure  to  vanish  before  his  application. 

His  last  day  at  Grammerton  has  arrived.  It  was 
the  last  day  of  the  summer  half,  the  examinations 
were  over,  and  to-morrow  Frank  Beauclerc  would 
be  a  man.  So  he  thouo-ht  or  tried  to  think.  We 
have  many  of  us  had  our  last  days,  and  felt  very 
much  in  the  same  manner.  Few  of  us  so  modestly. 
But  we  have  managed  to  pull  through,  all  of  us, 
with  something  to  be  thankful  for  to  our  school 
days,  and  so  will  he. 

It  is  a  good  warm  summer's  afternoon,  time  ten 
minutes  to  seven,  when  the  stumps  are  to  be  di-a^n, 
and  the  match  too,  unless  one  side  or  the  other  can 
manage  to  win  in  that  time. 

The  gentlemen  of  Grammerton  and  the  county 
are  playing  their  annual  match  with  the  school; 
and  there  are  plenty  there  to  whom  it  is  the  great 
occasion  of  the  year.  They  are  playing  in  the 
school  close ;  and  the  walk  round  it  and  the  mar- 
quees are  full  of  company.  The  ladies  have  not 
on  their  worst  bonnets,  bibs,  and  tuckers,  for  the 
occasion,  you  may  be  sui'e. 


94     THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

There  arc  twelve  runs  to  p^et,  and  ten  minutes 
to  do  it  in ;  and  the  last  of  the  school  eleven  is 
just  going  in,  the  ninth  wicket  having  fallen. 

"I  say,  Beauclerc,  why  haven't  you  been  in 
before?" 

"  Because  the  captain  desired  me  to  go  in  last." 
Saying  which  he  finished  the  last  buckle  of  his 
pad,  and  began  walking  towards  the  wicket  as  he 
drew  on  his  glove. 

"What  a  shame  of  Scorewell  not  to  have  put 
him  in  before ;  don't  you  think  so,  Tremayne  ?  " 

"  What  a  young  ass  you  are,"  says  Tremayne  ; 
"just  as  if  Scorewell  doesn't  know  his  own 
business  best." 

"I  know  why  he  puts  him  in  last,"  joins  in 
young  Culpepper.  "  He  wanted  a  steady  man  at 
the  end,  to  keep  his  wicket  up,  while  somebody 
else  got  the  runs.  And  you  see  it's  all  right. 
There's  Slogger's  got  his  eye  in  for  hitting,  and  if 
we've  luck  we  shall  just  win." 

"  By  Jove !  there  goes  old  Goldicott,  wdth  his 
cheroot  :  they're  going  to  put  on  the  slows. 
That's  to  play  against  time.     What  a  shame  !" 

Old  Goldicott,  of  the  Priory,  Grammerton,  was 
an  old  Grammertonian,  and  an  immense  favoui'ite 


FEANK  BECOMES  A  MAN.  95 

witli  the  boys,  except  when  he  played  against  them. 
He  had  been  long  time  a  dweller  in  Hindostan, 
and  had  returned  to  live  in  his  own  and  father's  and 
grandfather's  native  place,  with  an  ample,  if  not  a 
very  large,  fortune.  Nothing  went  on  in  Gram- 
merton  well  without  him,  from  a  cattle-show  to  a 
new  pump ;  but  he  was  never  so  happy  as  when 
he  was  playing  football  or  cricket  with  the  boys, 
or  indulging  some  of  them  in  any  legitimate  way 
he  could  think  of. 

"Well  bowled!"  shouted  the  elders,  as  they  saw 
one  of  Goldicott's  slows  drive  Frank  Beauclerc 
nearly  on  to  his  wicket. 

"Well  played!"  shouted  the  youngsters  in 
return,  as  they  saw  it  placed  safely  to  mid-wicket 
off.  The  field  came  a  little  in,  as  it  seemed  clear 
that  Beauclerc's  was  not  to  be  a  hitting  game. 

The  next  ball  was  not  quite  so  good,  and  was 
put  away  between  short-leg  and  the  bowler  for 
one  run. 

Nobody  spoke  now,  for  the  matter  had  become 
serious.  The  field  almost  imperceptibly  mdened 
itself.  Goldicott,  too,  felt  a  little  nervous,  for 
Slogger  was  in  fine  hitting  form,  and  not  likely  to 
let  off  a  loose  one. 


9G     THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

It  was,  however,  anything  but  a  loose  one ;  and 
even  Ashford,  the  reverend  gentleman  who  kept 
wicket,  and  was  an  old  Gentlemen-and-Players 
man,  could  not  help  an  exclamation  as  he  took  the 
ball  within  three  inches  of  the  top  of  the  wicket, 
and  returned  it  to  the  bowler. 

"  Another  coat  of  paint  wanted  ! "  shouted  the 
young  scoundrels  from  the  tent — and  then  came 
the  last  ball  of  the  over.  It  was  pitched  a  trifle 
too  far,  and  Slogger  hit  it  for  four.  Yells  from 
the  Lilliputians,  who,  however,  were  reminded  of 
their  bad  manners  by  the  fifth  and  sixth  forms, 
and  some  not  complimentary  allusions  to  the  Eton 
and  Harrow  matches  of  last  year. 

Seven  to  win,  and  two  more  overs  to  do  it  in. 

Oh!  for  youth,  and  hope,  and  the  opening 
scenes  of  the  drama  once  more  !  Should  we  spend 
it  in  knocking  about  a  ball  with  a  block  as  sense- 
less as  ourselves;  in  stirring  up  the  blood  with 
such  unprofitable  enterprise,  instead  of  oiling  the 
mind  from  the  midnight  lamp,  and  wrestling  to 
the  death  with  the  realities  of  life?  Indeed  we 
would,  and  we  would  knock  it  twice  as  hard,  and 
twice  as  often,  were  that,  forsooth,  possible,  which 
in  our  own  case  it  is  not. 


FRANK  BECOMES  A  MAN.  97 

Play :  "  Who's  bowling  at  this  end  ?  "  inquired 
Culpepper,  of  the  fifth. 

"  Don't  you  know  ?  It's  Lord  Legbail's  brother 
— he's  a  swell,  he  is." 

"But  can  he  bowl?" 

"  Can't  he  just  I  that's  all ! "  says  Tremayne, 
whose  English  was  about  fit  for  the  remove,  I 
presume.     "  Such  a  pace,  too  !  " 

"  That  will  suit  Beauclerc ;  he  can  hit  fast 
bowling,"  replied  the  other. 

The  truth  of  the  remark  w^as  verified  by  a  sharp 
clean  cut  into  the  hands  of  point,  who,  however, 
let  it  drop,  and  the  youngsters,  being  quick  be- 
tween wickets,  stole  one  run. 

"Rather  a  hot  one,"  said  Mi'.  Funckham's 
friends. 

"  Well  fielded,"  shouted  his  enemies  ;  for  which 
a  fourth-form  boy  got  a  licking  from  Culpepper. 
I  remember  at  Grammerton  we  rather  prided  our- 
selves on  om-  good  manners ;  they  were  best,  how- 
ever, when  we  were  in  company. 

The  next  ball  was  a  rattler ;  but  one  was  scored 
for  a  "  bye." 

"  That  comes  of  wearing  pads  to  stop  in,"  said 
the  miserable  sinner  who  missed  it. 

VOL.  I.  H 


98     THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHEK  AND  SON. 

"  What's  the  score  ?  "  said  the  players. 

"  Five  to  win,"  said  the  scorers. 

"Play  it  out,"  shouted  the  youngsters.  The 
morning  of  life  is  the  time  to  play  out  every- 
thinir. 

Beauclerc  stood  well  at  his  wicket.  He  had  a 
good  eye,  and  played  with  great  steadiness. 
There  was  time  to  wan,  but  it  wanted  a  hit  or  two 
to  do  it.  The  ball  came  fast,  well  up  to  the  bat, 
but  was  wide  of  the  wicket  to  the  leg ;  it  was  just 
the  ball  to  be  hit  by  a  free  hitter,  but  required 
decision. 

"  A  tenter,"  shouted  the  young  ones  again : 
"three  for  the  tent,"  said  they,  as  the  ball  fell 
within  the  ropes,  and  rolled  behind  the  canvas. 
Only  two  more;  their  ardour  was  irrepressible. 
To  have  stopped  them  now  would  have  been  as 
impossible  as  to  have  pulled  up  a  "  rusher "  in 
front  of  a  double  post  and  rails  wheu  he  has  been 
once  set  going. 

The  over  finished  with  no  more.  .Two  to  win ; 
and  Goldicott  lit  another  cheroot  after  a  short 
consultation. 

"  Those  beastly  slows,"  said  Beauclerc  to  him- 
self, as  Goldicott  took  a  gentle  hop  on  one  leg, 


FEAKK  BECOMES  A  MAX.  99 

a  peculiar  inin  of  very  short  steps,  and  delivered 
a  ball  which  looked  slower  than  ever.  The  field 
closed  in  round  the  bat,  but  there  w^ere  no  effects. 

"Well  kept  down." 

The  next  ball  was  equally  good,  and  equally 
well  played.  Two  more  runs  to  get  and  two 
more  balls.  The  Doctor  was  out,  and  his  wife 
was  out.  The  more  lovely  daughters  of  a  lovely 
mother  were  there;  and  one  of  them  felt  a — 
shall  we  say  sentiment  ?  —  for  this  fortunate 
youth,  Beauclerc,  which  only  wanted  careful  en- 
couragement to  have  developed  into  la  helle 
passion.  They  would  have  lost  the  match  had 
he  known  it.  As  it  was,  he  saw  them,  and  re- 
garding them  as  mortals,  played  accordingly. 

The  ball  w^as  bowled  by  no  means  so  straight 
as  its  predecessors,  and  Frank,  taking  advantage 
of  the  opportunity,  cut  it  clean  past  cover-point 
with  such  hearty  good-will  that  the  rmis  were 
called  before  the  ball  was  stopped. 

He  was  chaired  on  the  shoulders  of  a  couple 
of  unlettered  giants,  pressed  for  that  purpose,  and 
received  with  a  cordiality  that  would  have  damaged 
a  less  enduring  back  than  his.  It  was  a  fine  finish 
to  his  career  at  Grammerton. 
h2 


100    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHEE  AND  SON. 

"  Where  arc  you  going  ? "  said  a  liuiidred 
voices.  "  Where  are  you  going,  Beauclerc  ? 
Come  into  my  study;  there's  tea  all  ready." 
"  Tarts  and  rum  punch,"  said  another,  clandes- 
tinely, "  in  number  six." 

"  I  hope  you  are  not  engaged,  Beauclerc,"  said 
the  Doctor. 

"  Indeed  I  am.     I  am  so  sorry,  sir,  but " 

"Not  a  word,  my  good  fellow,  not  a  word. 
We  wanted  to  take  leave  of  you  once  more ;  but 
you're  going  to  sup  with  my  old  friend  Goldicott. 
It's  better  for  you ;  you'll  leave  with  a  happier 
impression " 

"No ;  really,  sir."  And  Frank  began  pro- 
testing, with  great  truth  ;  for  he  loved  the  Doctor, 
though  he  preferred  supping  with  Goldicott. 

"  I  knew  you  had  leave  to  go.  I  ought  to  have 
recollected  it ;  but  come  and  say  good-bye  to  us 
to-morrow  before  you  go  for  good.  Come  to 
luncheon."  And  the  fine  old  scholar-like  gentleman 
walked  slowly  away,  followed  by  the  young  ladies 
and  the  three  best  boys  in  the  school  to  partake  of 
his  hospitality,  but  whom  he  did  not  like  half  so 
much  as  the  gallant  fellow  who  had  just  won  the 
match  for  them. 


FEANK  BECOMES  A  MAX.  101 

Tom  Goldicdtt  was  better  known  than  any  man 
within  a  circle  of  ten  miles  of  Grammerton.  His 
father  had  lived  there  before  him ;  but  that  is  not 
the  only  reason  for  his  popularity.  He  himself 
left  the  Priory,  which  was  but  a  better  sort  of  villa, 
when  he  had  passed  at  Haileybury  for  the  Com- 
pany's service ;  for  he  did  not  think  that  a  man 
who  hunted  on  two  horses  was  justified  in  making 
an  eldest  son  an  idler.  Ten  horses  would  have 
been  different,  he  said.  Then  he  w^ould  have  shared 
the  honour  and  the  profit,  and  been  thankful.  As 
it  was,  the  patrimony  was  not  enough  to  do  good 
with  after  his  enlarged  views,  and  was  sufficiently 
tempting  to  lead  him  into  evil.  ^^  No,  no  !  my 
brothers  and  sisters  will  want  their  share ;  and  as  I 
should  like  to  come  back  and  live  in  the  old  house 
like  a  gentleman,  without  robbing  them,  I'll  go  to 
India.  Warren  Hastings  can't  have  stripped  all 
the  Begums  bare  on  that  immeasurable  peninsula : 
besides,  some  more  must  have  grown  up  since  then. 
I'll  go  and  see  what  I  can  do." 

So  he  went  away,  and  he  never  came  back  again 
until  his  father's  death ;  and  then  brought  rupees 
enough  to  enlarge  the  house,  and  clean  out  the 
ponds,  and  take  care  of  his  sisters,  and  subscribe 


102    THE  EEAUCLErtCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

to  the  charities,  and  farm  high,  and  breed  sliort- 
horns  and  long  fleeces,  and  to  take  an  active  lead- 
ing part  in  eveiy  association  that  was  likely  to  do 
good  to  his  country.  By  the  Grammerton  fellows 
he  was  idolised.  They  ran  their  paper  chases  over 
his  farms,  went  birds'-nesting  in  his  hedgerows, 
fished  his  water,  jumped  his  gates,  and  established 
a  right  of  way  for  themselves  over  his  enclosures ; 
and  in  retui'n  for  it  all,  they  shouted  his  name  on  the 
speech-day  after  the  Queen  and  the  Koyal  Family, 
and  received  it  with  equally  vociferous  applause.  In 
fact,  he  had  come  back  at  five-and-forty  as  much 
a  Grammerton  schoolboy  as  he  had  gone  out  at 
eighteen :  and  no  cricket-match  between  the  town 
and  the  county,  or  the  school  and  the  old  Gram- 
mertonians,  would  have  been  considered  perfect 
without  Tom  Goldicott.  They  would  have  pre- 
ferred him  to  George  Parr.  He  presided  at  the 
dinners,  was  chairman  of  the  board  of  guardians, 
a  justice  of  the  peace,  great  at  open-air  festivities, 
archery  parties,  and  pic-nics :  and  when  a  happy 
accident  made  an  opening  in  the  county,  you  may 
be  sure  that  Tom  Goldicott  proposed  or  seconded 
somebody  on  the  Conservative  interest.  He  always 
gave  the  bishop  a  dinner  when  he  came  to  confirm 


FRANK  BECOMES  A  MAN.  103 

tlie  people,  in  pity  to  the  excellant  diocesan,  wlio 
preferred  the  Priory  claret  and  delicate  fare  to  the 
Rectory  port  and  the  roast  and  boiled  of  the  un- 
ambitious vicar. 

And  this  is  the  man  towards  whose  house,  as  a 
wind-up  of  the  summer  half,  Frank  Beauclerc  and 
eleven  of  his  companions  are  making  their  way  to 
supper.  We  call  it  supper  because  it  took  place  at 
nine  o'clock ;  a  sociable  meal  after  a  cricket-match, 
which  released  us  from  some  of  the  formidable 
courtesy  of  a  set  dinner ;  and  pleasanter,  when  we 
take  into  consideration  the  time  of  year. 

"  Beau,  you  are  a  great  swell,  it  seems  to  me. 
You  know  that  the  eldest  girl  is  engaged  to  young 
Peckwater;  they're  to  be  married  as  soon  as  he 
takes  his  degree.     So  that's  no  go." 

"  I  can't  return  the  compliment,  Slogger,  old 
fellow ;  you  look  as  if  you  hadn't  seen  soap  and 
water  for  a  fortnight.  And  that  coat  of  yours " 

"  Ah !  I  know.  Well,  I  couldn't  help  that,  you 
know ;  'cos  that  Dinah  had  gone  and  packed  up 
all  my  things  to  go  to-moiTow." 

Dinah  at  Grammerton  was  something  like  ma- 
jesty ;  Dinah  never  died. 

"  That's  a  pity;  because  the  youngest  girl  isn't 


104         THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATIIEll  AND  SON. 

engaged  to  be  married,  and  you  don't  know  wliat 
a  clean  shirt  does  for  a  fellow  who  isn't  accus- 
tomed to  indulge  in  the  luxury  often." 

"  Oh  !  come,  hang  it ;  that's  too  bad,  Master 
Beau.  It  is  clean  ;  for  I  took  it  off  Lather's  bed, 
as  I  couldn't  get  at  one  of  my  own." 

"  That's  good,"  said  Beauclerc,  laughing,  in 
which  the  rest  joined,  as  they  turned  into  the 
Priory  gate ;  "  that's  rather  good.  It's  the  one 
Lather  has  just  taken  off.  But  he's  not  a  fellow 
that  ever  exerts  himself  much,  so  I  dare  say  it 
will  do." 

Whatever  qualms  might  have  been  felt  on  the 
score  of  dress-coats  or  patent-leather  boots,  they 
were  set  aside  at  once  by  the  appearance  of  Tom 
Goldicott  himself  at  the  door  to  receive  his  guests, 
in  a  beautifully  clean  suit  of  white  jean,  and 
smoking  a  Manilla  cheroot.  He  was  a  scrupu- 
lously neat  person,  but  had  imbibed  his  notions  of 
propriety  in  a  school  of  his  own.  The  boys  were 
at  their  ease  at  once. 

There  Avas  a  ]\Irs.  Goldicott — a  small,  bright- 
eyed,  pretty  woman  of  forty,  who  had  been  mar- 
ried young.     She  was  Indian  all  over — her  dark 


FEANK  BECOMES  A  MAN.  105 

eyes,  inenergetic  manners,  and  luxurious  shawl ; 
it  was  a  favourite  article  of  toilet  witli  her. 

"  My  dear,  I  think  you  know  most  of  these  gen- 
tlemen ?  Frank  Beauclerc's  father  is  an  old  friend 
of  yours  in  India." 

Mrs.  Goldicott  shook  hands  with  them  all,  as 
they  came  up  in  a  shy  manner,  in  Indian  file  (out 
of  compliment  to  theii'  host,  as  Frank  told  them 
afterwards),  and  then  made  room  for  Beauclerc  on 
the  sofa. 

"  Your  father ;  oh !  was  that  your  father  that 
we  knew  at  Calcutta  ?  The  most  charming  person 
I  ever  knew.  You're  very  like  him,  only  rather 
younger-looking." 

Beauclerc  laughed.  "  Well,  I  suppose  I  ought 
to  be ;  as  he's  my  father,  he's  sm'e  to  be  the  elder 
of  the  two." 

"  Of  course,"  said  the  little  woman,  falling  back 
on  a  cushion ;  "  but  it's  twenty  years  ago  I'm 
thinking  of ;  so,  you  know,  it  wasn't  such  a  stupid 
speech  after  all." 

"  Stupid ?  "  and  Frank  began  to  stammer 

apologies,  when  Tom  Goldicott  came  to  the  rescue. 

"  I've  seen  your  governor  (the  best  of  fellows 


106        THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

are  often  a  little  unrefined  in  their  language) 
several  years  later  than  Mrs.  Goldicott,  who  came 
home  long  before  me.  He's  the  youngest  and  one 
of  the  most  agreeable  men  in  India." 

"  I  remember  him  well.  He  was  very  young- 
looking  twelve  years  ago." 

"  Why,  how  old  were  you  when  you  first  came 
to  England?" 

"  About  eight,  I  think." 

"Would  you  know  him  if  you  met  him  to- 
morrow, Beau?"  said  one  of  the  small  Grammer- 
tonians,  in  a  confidential  tone,  to  his  senior. 

"  I  don't  think  I  should,  quite,  unless  I  expected 
to  see  him." 

"  I  say,  Avhat  a  rum  thing  it  must  be  not  to 
know  your  own  governor." 

"  Surely  not  for  you,  Dufferling,  because  it's  a 
"vvise  child  that  knows  its  own  father."  And  then 
Tom  Goldicott,  having  administered  his  witticism, 
turned  attention  away,  with  a  good-natured  laugh, 
from  the  discomfited  one,  by  introducing  Slogger 
as  the  hero  of  the  day. 

"  Mrs.  Goldicott,  you'll  be  delighted  to  make  the 
acquaintance  of  Slogger,  who  distinguished  himself 


FKANK  BECOMES  A  MAN.  107 

exceedincrly  as^ainst  us :  in  fact,  Slocjcrer  won  the 
match.*' 

It  T^ill  be  perceived  that  Tom  Goldicott  was  a 
bit  of  a  farceur^  and  felt  bound  to  keep  his  guests 
amused  till  the  supper  was  on  table. 

"  Noj  su',"  said  a  matter-of-fact  youngster  ;  "  it 
wasn't  Sloo^CTer ;  it  was  Beauclerc  won  the  match 
with  that  beautiful  cut  to  cover-point." 

"  Well,  then,  come  along,  young  'un,  and  we'll 
drink  both  their  healths." 

So  Mi's.  Goldicott  led  the  way  with  Frank,  while 
Slogger  followed  with  Miss  Goldicott,  a  very  pretty 
girl  in  a  maze  of  white  muslin  and  cherry-colom*ed 
ribbons,  and  Dufferling  closed  the  procession  ^^4th 
a  second  edition  of  the  muslin  and  ribbons,  only, 
being  bright-haired,  in  blue.  A  miscellaneous  rabble 
(Tom  Goldicott  magna  comitante  catervd)  hmig  upon 
the  steps  of  the  advanced  guard. 

Nothing  could  be  better  than  the  supper,  except- 
ing the  appetites. 

"  Well  done,  Slogger ! "  said  the  jolly  old  Indian, 
from  the  top  of  the  table.  "How  do  you  feel 
now  ?  "  Slogger  had  just  passed  on  the  claret-cup 
to  Tremayne.     "  How  do  you  feel  now  ?  " 


108    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AXD  SON. 

"Awfully  jolly!"  said  the  KSlogger,  recom- 
mencing on  the  viands. 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  old  Armstrong  doesn't  neglect 
your  English." 

"  I  don't  understand  exactly,  sir,"  re2)lied  he. 

"  I  mean,  that  some  young  gentlemen  and  ladies 
of  my  acqviaintance  find  everything  *  aivful  jolh/,' 
which  is  not  such  good  grammar  as  yours,  that's 
all."  Here  he  looked  at  his  youngest  *  daughter, 
who  said,  ''  Oh !  pa,"  and  pressed  her  hand- 
kerchief to  her  face  with  a  becoming  modesty. 
"  Now",  boys,  let's  drink  Dr.  Armstrong's  health. 
If  it  hadn't  been  for  him,  you  youngsters  wouldn't 
have  been  here  to-night,  for  I  meant  to  have  had 
the  eleven.     Have  some  more  tart,  Chesterton  ?  " 

"  Not  any  more,  thank  you,"  said  the  boy,  who 
was  a  most  jovial-looking  little  fellow,  and  Avhose 
appearance  belied  his  abstemiousness. 

"  I  think  Chcssy  could  do  it,  Mr.  Goldicott,  if 
he  might  stand  up  to  it,"  suggested  his  neighbour, 
who  had  made  great  play  with  the  champagne  and 
claret-cup,  whatever  abstinence  he  had  observed 
among  the  tarts  and  custards. 

"  Thank  you,  my  dears.  Now  my  fan  ;  thanks  ; 
and  now  my  gloves;  they  are  somewhere  under- 


FEAXK  BECOMES  A  MAX.  109 

iieatli  the  table."  Upon  which  there  ensued  a 
dive  of  little  heads,  which  returned  with  the  scat- 
tered treasui-es  among  them ;  and  then  Mrs.  Gol- 
dicott  prepared  to  go.  Frank  Beauclerc,  Slogger, 
Tremajne,  and  one  or  two  of  the  oldest  of  the 
party,  who  did  not  appreciate  such  an  address,  but 
left  that  part  to  the  lower  schoolboys,  rose  at 
once,  and  bowed  that  lady  out  with  a  vast  amount 
of  full-grown  coui'tesy.  The  young  ladies  fol- 
lowed. The  boys  lost  nothing  of  their  claims  in 
their  hands :  they  were  regarded  and  treated  with 
considerable  hauteur  after  their  social  meal.  Both 
parties  played  at  ladies  and  gentlemen  to  perfec- 
tion. Slogger  never  felt  the  least  uncomfortable 
in  his  second  day's  linen  and  week-day  clothes 
until  he  was  addressed  with  such  profound  polite- 
ness by  Miss  Isabella  Goldicott ;  then  for  the  first 
time  he  regretted  Dinah's  obstinacy  or  precipi- 
tancy, and  his  own  w^ant  of  a  dress-coat.  It  is  a 
comfort  to  think  that  it  had  not  affected  his 
appetite.  His  sense  of  dignity  came  too  late  for 
that. 

"  Xow,  young  fellows,  I'm  not  going  to  get  you 
into  a  row  by  keeping  you  here  too  late.  I  pro- 
mised the  Doctor  you  should  be  home  by  eleven. 


110 

You've  lialf  an  hour  more,  so  make  tlie  most 
of  it." 

Then  the  conversation  became  general ;  tliat  is, 
it  varied  from  cricket  to  football ;  from  jolly  fel- 
lows to  beasts  and  sneaks.  A  corner  was  kept  for 
our  big  brothers,  and  somebody's  pony  took  a 
prominent  part  in  it.  There  was  a  mention  of  a 
pic-nic  at  our  place,  and  a  young  cockney  w^as  great 
on  theatres.  Frank  Beauclerc  has  found  a  ready 
informant  on  Indian  life,  and  an  interesting 
theme  in  the  scrapes,  talent,  good  looks,  and 
popularity  of  his  own  father.  Slogger  and  Tre- 
mayne  were  arguing  the  merits  of  the  last  Uni- 
versity boat-race,  the  former  maintaining  that  the 
boat  was  in  fault,  and  that  the  stroke  had  injured 
his  wrist  the  day  before,  the  latter  offering  to 
lay  the  most  frightful  odds  on  Oxford  for  next 
year,  and  pulling  out  a  small  memorandum- 
book  and  gold  pencil-case  in  earnest  of  his  inten- 
tions. 

Presently  it  was  time  to  take  leave ;  so  the 
well-fed  and  judiciously-liquored  little  rascals 
pressed  around  Mrs.  Goldicott,  and  offered  her 
the  choice  of  some  very  warm  hands.     She  shook 


FEANK  BECOMES  A  MAN.  Ill 

one  or  two,  but  the  exertion  was  too  much,  so  she 
sunk  back  and  nodded  a  o-eneral  "  o-ood  niMit," 
distinguishing  Slogger  by  name.  The  young  ladies 
bowed  with  much  graceful  condescension. 

"  I  hope  when  your  father  comes  home,  he  will 
come  to  see  me,  Beauclerc,"  said  jVIrs.  Goldicott, 
tendering  him  a  hand,  "  and  that  you  will  come 
with  him.  We  shall  all  be  very  glad  to  see  you 
again,  shan't  we,  girls?" 

"  Oh  yes,  mamma!"  said  both  of  them  at  once, 
presenting  the  object  of  their  newly-aroused  incli- 
nations with  a  hand  as  they  spoke. 

"  Beauclerc,  I'll  walk  with  you  a  little  way.  I 
shan't  be  long,  my  dear."  And  lighting  a  cheroot 
from  a  taper  on  the  mantelpiece,  he  opened  the 
door  and  followed  Frank. 

"  What  a  handsome  boy,"  said  the  mother ;  "  so 
like  his  father." 

"  Charming  young  man,"  said  the  girls.  "  Did 
you  see  his  studs,  mamma?" 

"  And  Mr.  Tremayne  says  he's  veiy  clever ;  he's 
going  to  leave  to-morrow  to  go  into  the  army." 

"He'll  have  a  very  good  fortune,  too,  girls. 
His  father  has,  or  will  have,  the  Beauclerc  pro- 


112 

perty,  besides  a  good  sliare  of  the  Anglo-Banian 
Bank." 

Isabella  looked  down  at  lier  blue  ribbons  and 
white  gauze,  and  Miss  Goldicott  smoothed  down 
her  hair,  which  was  certainly  magnificent,  and 
naturally  cr'tpu. 

Frank  and  his  late  entertainer  turned  through 
the  garden  gate  towards  the  town  of  Grammerton. 

"  Will  you  have  a  cheroot,  Beauclerc  ?  I  don't 
often  offer  one  to  you  fellows,  but  I  suppose  the 
last  niiiht  of  the  half  there's  not  much  harm ;"  and 
he  held  out  a  small  cigar-case. 

"  No,  thanks !  The  fact  is,  I  was  caught,  and  I 
promised  Armstrong  not  to  smoke  again  while  I 
was  here.  I  don't  think  I'm  exempt  till  to-morrow 
morning." 

"  You're  quite  right,  having  made  the  promise, 
to  keep  it  to  its  legitimate  end ;  besides,  it's  a  very 
bad  habit  for  young  fellows  to  get  into." 

"  I  shall  begin  to-morrow." 

"  You  don't  really  like  it  ?  " 

"Do  you,  Mr.  Goldicott?" 

"  Well,  as  a  matter  of  habit ;  once  I  did  it  out 
of  opposition." 


FEAXK  BECOMES  A  MAX.  113 

"Just  SO.  Perhaps  I  do  so  too.  But  I  re- 
member years  ago  vowing  that  I'd  smoke  when  I 
was  my  own  master,  because  I  saw  Mr.  Colville 
do  it,  and  he  looked  so  comfortable  in  the  middle 
of  all  his  troubles." 

"WhoisMr.  ColviUe?" 

"  He's  a  private  tutor,  at  whose  house  I've  lived 
since  I  came  to  England,  and  to  whom  I'm  going 
to-morrow." 

"  A  private  tutor !  poor  man !  then  he  must 
have  wanted  a  narcotic.  I  wonder  whether  he  is 
a  relation  or  connexion  of  a  family  of  the  name 
of  Carloss?" 

"  Yes ;  a  distant  one.  There's  a  little  girl,  at 
least  she's  about  fifteen,  lives  in  our  village,  named 
Violet  Carloss." 

"Violet  Carloss!  Then  he's  the  same  man  I 
recollect  years  ago  ;  he  was  a  fellow  of  Tri- 
nity." 

"  And  a  very  good  fellow  too,  I  can  tell  you ; 
and  such  a  nice  woman  his  wife  is.  I'd  just 
as  soon  be  with  them  as  at  my  own  home. 
Besides,  I  expect  my  father  home  in  a  year  or 
two." 

VOL.  I.  I 


114 

"  Aiid  do  you  know  the  Carlosses,  too  ? "  Old 
Goldicott  seemed  to  be  still  absorbed  in  his  own 
reminiscences. 

"  You  forget.  I  have  never  been  in  India  since 
I  was  quite  young." 

"  True ;  but  your  father  was  very  intimate  with 
them.  The  women  were  very  good-looking ;  and 
all  the  good-looking  women  liked  him.  He  was  a 
irreat  favourite  of  Mrs.  Goldicott,  I  can  tell  you. 
There  was  a  very  handsome  German  woman,  too, 
a   sort   of   companion,  who   lived    with    them,    a 

Madame What's-her-name." 

"Rosenfels,  perhaps,"  suggested  Frank,  who 
seemed  to  have  nothing  better  to  say. 

"  Rosenfels,  to  be  sure  it  was ;  how  the  deuce 
did  you  know  that?  The  Avomen  seem  to  have 
made  some  impression  upon  you,  though  you  have 
forgotten  the  old  Major.  Ah !  he  was  a  gentle- 
man, though  rather  of  the  slow  school.  He  was  a 
good  officer,  too,  and  as  brave  as  a  lion.  He  only 
died  three  years  ago.  But  what  makes  you  recol- 
lect Madame  Kosenfels  so  well?" 

"  She  lives  in  Lymmersfield.  So  of  course  I 
know  her.     But  I  recollect  nothing  about  her.     I 


FKANK  BECOMES  A  MAN.  115 

believe  tlie  Carlosses  were   in  Madras  when  we 
were  in  Calcutta." 

"  All !  not  your  father,  Beauclerc,  for  I've  seen 
him  up  at  Carloss's,  in  the  hills,  after  a  fall,  or  an 
accident  of  some  kind."  After  smoking  a  few  mi- 
nutes in  silence,  Goldicott  said,  "  Violet  Carloss 
with  Madame  Rosenf els ;  oh !  I  see  now.  I  sup- 
pose Violet  is  the  Major's  daughter,  and  came 
home  with  her." 

"  Yes  ;  Major  Carloss  was  her  father.  I  know 
this  only  from  the  CohiUes,  for  I  have  scarcely 
seen  her  half  a  dozen  times  in  the  last  five  years ; 
and  I  didn't  know  her  at  all  before  that.  Madame 
Eosenfels  must  have  been  very  handsome  indeed. 
I've  seen  her  in  church :  and  she  has  been  at  the 
Colvilles',  but  not  when  I  was  there." 

"  Be  careful,  Beauclerc  ;  she's  said  to  be  a  veiy 
clever  woman ;  and  Miss  Violet  ought  to  have  a 
little  money.  There  was  something  not  quite  right 
between  the  Major  and  her  mother,  I  quite  forget 
what :  some  sort  of  unpleasantness.  However, 
they  are  both  dead  now,  and  I  suppose  the  girl 
will  have  her  mother's  fortune.  Her  half-brother 
was  here  a  few  years  ago." 
I  2 


116    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

The  old  Indian  had  finished  his  cheroot;  they 
stood  before  the  school-house,  and  it  was  eleven 
o'clock.  He  shook  hands  with  Frank  Beauclerc  ; 
begged  his  regards  to  his  father  when  he  wrote, 
and  wished  him  success  in  the  course  of  life  he  had 
chosen.  One  went  to  bed  to  think  of  the  career 
that  was  opening  before  him,  to  sleep  upon  the 
roses  that  appeared  to  strew  his  path  with  sweets 
from  the  morrow's  dawn ;  the  other  to  remind  his 
wife  of  their  former  cheerful  friend  and  compa- 
nion, Everard  Beauclerc,  and  to  ask  her  whether 
she  recollected  the  Carlosses  and  other  people,  and, 
above  all,  a  veiy  beautiful  Madame  Rosenfels,  in 
the  Madras  Presidency. 

Mrs.  Goldicott  would  fain  have  gone  to  sleep, 
thinking  that  bed  was  made  for  that,  and  life  for 
bed ;  but  her  husband  roused  her  by  a  rather  per- 
tinent question  or  two. 

"  Madame  Rosenfels  ?  of  course  I  do,"  said  the 
lady,  rather  tartly,  seeing  that  Mr.  Goldicott 
among  others  had  been  slightly  smitten  by  the 
charms  of  the  humble  companion  and  adven- 
turess. 

"And   don't  you   remember   that    pretty  little 


FRANK  BECOMES  A  MAN.  117 

!Mrs.  Carloss?  There  was  some  sort  of  row  be- 
tween the  Major  and  his  wife ;  not  exactly  a  sepa- 
ration; but  something,  I've  forgotten  w^hat.  I 
thought  Frank  Beauclerc  might  have  heard  of  it, 
being  much  with  Indian  people. 

"  Why,  Tom,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you  have 
been  asking  that  handsome  boy  about  the  Car- 
losses  and  their  business  ?  "  and  the  lady  raised  her- 
self in  bed. 

"  Indeed  I  do ;  why  shouldn't  I  ?  There's  no- 
thing wrong  in  it,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  There,  go  to  sleep,  you  stupid  old  man.  Why, 
it  was  that  boy's  father,  Everard  Beauclerc,  that 
was  supposed  to  be  the  cause  of  the  quarrel.  It's 
well  it's  no  worse.  I  foro;ot  all  about  it.  How- 
ever,  it's  clear  the  boy  has  never  heard  of  the 
scandal.     So  good  night." 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  later  our  old  friend  Tom 
Goldicott  was  fast  asleep,  and  regardless  of  all 
intrigues,  Indian  or  British ;  while  !Mrs.  Goldicott, 
in  spite  of  her  soporific  nature,  woke  up  occa- 
sionally with  a  languid  laugh  at  her  husband's 
blunder,  and  a  malicious  regret  that  he  hadn't 
made   the   remark  to   the  father   instead   of   the 


118        THE  BEAUCLEKCS,  FATHEE  AND  SON. 

son.  The  little  woman  remembered  that  it  took  a 
little  time  to  forgive  the  Colonel  on  his  return  to 
Calcutta,  and  that  nothing  but  the  habit  of  deal- 
ing with  the  Beauclerc  peccadilloes  leniently  got 
him  into  favour  again.  So  true  it  is  that  one  man 
may  steal  a  horse,  when  another  must  not  be  seen 
looking  through  the  stable  ^^indow. 


119 


CHAPTER  Vn. 

A    REAL    WOMAN. 

&)  KaWt(f)€pp€s  7]Xtov  aeXas. — EuR.     Troiades. 

"Haery,  you  look  tii-ed,"  said  Mrs.  Colville. 
For  we  must  change  tlie  scene  from  Grammerton 
to  Lymmersfield. 

"I  look  as  I  am,  my  dear;  and  these  Army 
Examiners  have  done  me  out  of  part  of  my  vaca- 
tion again.  You  know  I  got  no  Easter,  because 
they  had  fixed  the  examination  for  May  :  and  now 
I  must  go  on  till  August."  It  was  a  warm  day  in 
June,  and  Harry  Colville  gaped  at  the  anticipa- 
tion. 


120 

"  Who  are  going  up  this  time  ?  " 

"  Standish  :  he's  siu'e  to  come  back  again.  He's 
been  educated  entirely  on  the  modern  system,  and 
consequently  knows  nothing  of  English.  Bentley 
has  been  taught  nothing  in  the  world  but  Latin  and 
Greek :  so  that  he's  pretty  sure  to  be  plucked  for 
Mathematics  and  History.  Still  he  may  pull 
through,  for  it  has  taught  him  to  spell  his  o\vn 
language,  and  to  write  the  essay  of  a  scholar  and  a 
gentleman ;   thanks  to  his  classics." 

"And  Frank?  What  do  you  think  of  him? 
He  comes  to-morrow." 

"  I  should  think  Frank  is  quite  safe,  thanks  to 
your  teaching  when  he  was  a  child,  and  Dr.  Arm- 
strong's since  he  has  been  a  schoolboy.  Ah !  it's 
an  ill  wind  that  blows  nobody  any  good.  If  he 
likes  to  go  on  reading  at  once,  I  can  get  him 
through  in  August ;  and  then  I  shall  not  regret  the 
labour." 

"  Harry,  you  never  regret  labour  for  other 
people." 

"  I  never  regret  it  for  you  and  the  children,  my 


A  KEAL  WOMAN.  121 

love ;  and  some  day  or  other  we  shall  be  repaid  for 
it — at  least  I  always  think  so." 

"  One  thing  you're  not  deficient  in." 

"What's  that?"  And  her  husband  looked  up 
a  little  f amtly. 

"  Coui'age.  You've  had  enough  to  try  yours. 
If  you  were  not  a  good  man,  you  would  have 
ceased  to  believe  in  any  one." 

"I  don't  believe  in  many  men,  Bessie;  but  I 
have  never  ceased  to  believe  in  God." 

Bessie  Colville  stooped  down  and  kissed  his  fore- 
head. "  Yes ;  He's  been  very  good  to  us  some- 
times when  we  least  expected  it.  We'll  continue 
to  trust  in  Him.     I  have  but  one  sorrow." 

"  What's  that,  my  wife  ?  "  And  Harry  got  up 
and  looked  at  her  with  a  hand  on  each  shoulder. 
He  thought  for  the  ten  thousandth  time  that  he 
had  never  seen  so  beautiful  a  face.  And  so  it  was. 
It  was  just  the  face  to  give  expression  to  eveiy 
word  that  she  uttered,  as  she  slowly  replied,  "I 
never  can  help  you ;"  and  then  he  saw  her  eyes  fill 
with  tears. 


122    THE  CEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

"  You  never  can  help  me  ?  Tliat's  very  un- 
fortunate indeed,  Bessie.  You  are  a  great  incum- 
brance. You  know  neither  Greek,  Latin,  nor 
mathematics.  The  Binonical  Theorem  would  be 
a  sad  puzzle  for  you.  And  yet  I  prefer  you,  as 
you  are,  to  a  prof ound  gi'aduate,  an  LL.D.  and  an 
A.S.S. ;  and  without  such  a  helpmate  I  think  I 
should  have  died.  So  don't  fret,  dear ;  and  then 
I'll  give  myself  a  holiday,  and  we'll  go  out  for  a 
stroll.  Where  are  you  going  to  put  Frank  Beau- 
clerc?" 

"  Into  the  spare  room." 

"  It's  a  bore  to  give  that  up." 

"Not  at  all.  It's  a  blessing,  Harry,  to  think 
that  we're  obhged  to  do  so." 

"  Let  him  have  my  dressing-room." 

"  Certainly  not.  We  can  do  without  company 
for  the  present,  at  all  events ;  and  when  the  house 
is  clear  of  your  natural  enemies  we  shall  have  room 
for  everybody.  What  an  odd  person  Madame 
Kosenfels  is,  Harry ! " 

"Mysterious  looking.     But  very  pleasant  and 


A  EEAL  WOMAN.  123 

handsome.  Next  to  you,  tlie  best-looking  woman 
in  this  neighbourhood." 

"  Beauty  is  a  man's  weakness :  the  thickest  of 
coverings  for  the  concealment  of  defects;  you 
never  see  beyond  it,  and  seldom  try  to  do  so." 

"It's  a  letter  of  recommendation,  dear,  wliich 
one  is  bound  to  read.  But  what  has  Madame  been 
doing?" 

"  Since  Major  Carloss's  death  gave  us  some  sort 
of  interest  m  Violet,  she  has  seemed  more  than 
ever  desirous  of  keeping  the  girl  to  herself.  She  is 
of  an  age  now  to  see  some  society ;  and  though  I 
have  avoided  any  great  intimacy  hitherto,  I  think 
it  is  our  duty  to  do  something  for  her." 

"  Now  Frank's  coming  home,  certamly."  Colville 
suspected  a  woman's  weakness. 

"  Nonsense.  Frank's  nothing  to  her,  nor  she  to 
Frank.  Besides,  he'll  soon  be  in  a  cavahy  regi- 
ment, with  other  companions,  and  forget  Lym- 
mersfield  altogether." 

"  Not  if  I  know  him,  Bessie.  He'll  never  forget 
you.     There  goes  Madame." 


124 

As  he  spoke,  a  very  handsome,  well-dressed 
woman  walked  sloAvly  by  the  front  of  the  house. 
She  was  tall,  above  the  middle  height,  and  walked 
with  a  firm,  well-assured  step  ;  her  veil  was  down, 
light  with  dark  spots  on  it,  giving  a  delicate  ap- 
pearance to  her  complexion.  She  half  halted  at 
the  gate  of  Colville's  house,  as  though  hesitating  to 
go  in ;  but  continued  her  course  again  unchanged. 

"  How  well  she  wears,"  said  the  mistress,  looking 
at  her  figure. 

"  What  a  complexion  ! "  thought  the  master,  re- 
collecting the  veil,  and  what  he  had  seen  through 
it.  "If  all  veils  were  like  that  there  would  be 
more  women  ready  to  take  them." 

In  due  time  of  course,  as  in  due  course  of  time, 
Frank  Beauclerc  arrived  safely  at  Lymmersfield.  I 
say  of  course,  for  had  an  accident  happened  to  him 
this  story  would  have  come  to  an  untimely  end : 
besides,  he  did  not  travel  by  the  Eastern  Counties. 
He  lost  his  luggage  naturally,  and  got  it  again  at 
the  end  of  four  days :  that  came  of  finding  him- 
self on  the  South  Western. 


A  EEAL  WOMAN.  125 

Wlien  he  did  reach  Lymmersfield  he  was  heartily 
welcomed  by  Colville  and  his  wife :  for  it  Avas  im- 
possible to  have  lived  or  been  in  any  close  con- 
nexion with  Frank  Beauclerc  without  liking  him. 
Standish  lent  him  shirts,  and  Bentley  found  him 
a  sufficiency  of  external  toilette  for  dinner,  until 
the  superintendent  of  the  lost  luggage-office  and 
the  telegraphic  wh-es  enabled  him  to  ascertain  that 
his  chattels  had  gone  on  to  Sommerfield,  on  the 
other  side  of  London.  The  two  words  ended  in 
"  field,"  which  was  considered  a  valid  excuse  by 
the  railway  officials,  and  reluctantly  acquiesced  in 
by  Frank. 

He  had  not  been  very  long  back  at  his  old 
tutor's,  when  a  novel  impression  was  accidentally 
made  upon  him.  It  ought  to  be  premised  that 
Frank  Beauclerc  was  not  a  susceptible  person.  He 
was  as  little  so  as  anybody.  Like  other  schoolboys, 
he  had  experienced  soupcons  of  the  tender  passion 
of  coui'se.  One  was  very  early  in  life  :  he  was 
about  ten,  and  the  young  lady  eighteen.  He 
showed  her  every  attention  by  gathering  for  her 


126       THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

quantities  of  gooseberries  and  currants  (it  took 
place  in  the  warm  weather),  by  sitting  near  lier  at 
all  meals,  and  by  weeping  copiously  when  he  left 
her.  To  be  sure  he  was  going  away  from  a  garden 
full  of  fruit,  and  a  pond  with  a  punt  in  it,  to  the 
elements  of  Latin  poetry  and  the  verbs  in  fit, 
which  might  have  had  something  to  do  with  his 
tears.  However,  let  us  be  generous :  he  was 
touched. 

I  do  not  count  the  young  female  who  dealt  out 
the  cheesecakes  to  the  boys  at  Grammerton.  For 
a  pastrycook  she  was  very  pretty:  and  there  can 
be  no  doubt  that  Frank  had  preferred  the  cheese- 
cakes dealt  out  to.  him  by  hand.  Many  went 
further  than  this,  of  course ;  but  it  was  the  extent 
of  Frank  Beauclerc's  passion,  so  long  as  he  liked 
cheesecakes,  which  was  not  beyond  the  forth  form 
or  the  shell.  Tom  Skelter  was  devoted,  and  lie 
was  a  big  fellow.  He  wrote  a  beautiful  copy  of 
Latin  verses  to  her,  headed  "  Ad  Cloen,"  be- 
ginning : 

Te  quando  aspiciam,  curae  solvuntur  amara3 
Insolitos  risus  reddit  imago  tua, 


A  EEAL  WOMAN".  127 

with  some  more  lines  equally  original.  One  indeed 
was  so  original  as  to  have  in  it  a  bad  false  quantity, 
which  was  detected  by  Dandy  Calthorpe,  to  whom 
Fanny  Tarts  showed  them,  asking  for  a  construe. 
It  covered  poor  Tom  Skelter  with  confusion  to 
think  that  his  inamorata  did  not  understand  Latin, 
and  saved  him  froni  much  future  trouble.  Dandy 
Calthorpe,  who  was  a  great  fool  in  everything  but 
Latin  verses,  came  back  from  Oxford  and  married 
Fanny.  His  family,  very  judiciously,  refused  to  do 
anything  for  him  in  this  country,  and  sent  him  off 
to  assist  in  raising  the  population  and  reputation  of 
our  colonies,  whence  he  has  not  yet  returned. 

Of  all  these  things,  and  such  hallucinations, 
Frank  was  guiltless.  He  had  dearly  loved  Mrs. 
Colville,  and  the  good-humoured  woman  who 
tucked  him  up  and  sung  him  to  sleep  when  a  little 
boy.     Beyond  this  he  was  heart-whole. 

One  morning,  while  Mrs.  Colville  was  super- 
intending her  garden,  and  while  Frank  was  read- 
ing by  the  window  which  opened  on  to  the  lawn, 
the  door  opened,  and  a  young  girl  of  extraordinary 
beauty  stood  before  him.     As  soon  as  she  saw  that 


128    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

the  room  was  untenanted  except  by  himself,  slie 
turned  abruptly  round,  saying,  "  I  beg  your  pardon, 
I  was  looking  for  ^Ii*s.  Colville." 

Frank  Beauclerc  was  rather  taken  aback  by  the 
vision,  which  came  between  him  and  his  "  remark- 
able events  in  the  lives  of  the  kings  of  the  House 
of  Tudor."  Although  the  face  was  altered  since  he 
had  last  seen  it,  which  indeed  had  not  been  for  two 
years  or  more,  there  remained  sufficient  resem- 
blance for  identification,  so  he  called  out : 

"  Why,  Miss  Carloss,  is  that  you  ?  Mrs.  Colville 
is  here ;  through  the  window." 

Violet  turned  round,  and  saw  not  Mr.  Bentley, 
nor  Mr.  Standish,  nor  any  other  of  the  numerous 
pupils  which  filled  up  Colville's  house  even  to  the 
spare  room,  but  the  face  of  a  person  whom  she  had 
not  seen  often,  but  of  whom  she  felt  that,  she  must 
have  a  sort  of  instinctive  or  necessary  knowledge. 
She  had  some  difficulty  in  recognising  him  at  first ; 
then  the  old  boyish  chubby  face  came  out  in  the  more 
oval  shape  and  manly  look  which  he  had  acquii-ed. 
The  neat,  trim,  tight  figure  of  the  lad,  however. 


A  KEAL  WOMAN.  129 

was  gone  with  his  round  jacket,  and  there  was 
nothing  of  it  left  in  the  lengthy,  active,  loosely-set 
limbs  and  broad  pliant  shoulders,  which  rose  from 
the  chair  to  the  height  of  a  good  six  feet.  When 
she  saw  who  it  was  she  laughed,  however. 

"  And  why  did  you  call  me  Miss  Carloss,  if  you 
knew  me  ?  "     And  they  shook  hands . 

"What  was  I  to  call  you?"  said  Frank,  some- 
what amazed. 

"  Violet,  to  be  sure ;  what  do  you  think  ?  " 

"Does  everybody,  that  knows  you,  call  you  by 
your  Christian  name  ?  " 

"  Of  course  they  do,"  said  the  lady,  looking 
equally  surprised. 

"What,  Standish,  and  all  the  fellows  here  ?" 

"  No,  they  don't  know  me  ;  at  least,  not  in  that 
way." 

"In  what  way?" 

"  Why,  not  as  you  do — not  when  we  were  chil- 
dren together." 

"  That's  true,  Violet,"  said  Frank,  musing  ;  "  it 
makes  a  great  difference." 

VOL.  I.  K 


130 

"  Besides,  we  both  came  from  India,"  added  the 
girl,  who  looked  as  English  as  a  girl  well  could 
look. 

"That's  something  more:  so  our  interests  are 
partly  identical." 

"  I  don't  know  what  you  mean,  Frank,  by  our 
interests  being  partly  identical ;  but  when  I've 
known  people  a  long  time,  and  we've  played  toge- 
ther when  we  were  children,  I  don't  like  them  to 
call  me  Miss  Carloss ;  and  now  we'll  go  to  ^Irs. 
Colville,  if  you'll  tell  me  where  she  is." 

When  Frank  began  to  consider  the  simple  ra- 
tionale of  the  young  lady's  request,  he  was  not  in- 
clined to  judge  her  very  harshly.  He  reflected 
that  she  was  scarcely  seventeen  years  old,  and  was 
not  likely  to  calculate  results;  so  he  accepted  his 
position  with  a  good  grace.  Besides,  it  was  a  very 
lovely  face,  and  not  of  a  character  to  make  any 
one  sceptical  as  to  its  unaffected  simplicity.  Mrs. 
Colville  was  deep  in  the  mysteries  of  a  ribbon- 
border,  which  was  to  rival  all  the  ribbon-borders 
in  the  county  for  colour,  though  it  was  likely  to 
yield  to  that  of  the  Crystal  Palace  in  length. 


A  BEAL  WOMAN.  131 

"  Well !  Violet,  what  is  it  ?  You  look  supremely 
happy  this  morning." 

"So  I  am,  dear."  She  had  a  way  of  demon- 
strating her  affection  pretty  strongly,  so  she  seized 
and  kissed  her  friend  at  once;  wliile  Mrs.  Cohdlle 
stood  to  endm-e  it  with,  her  dirty  gloves  and  her 
spud  held  out  from  the  clean  white  muslin,  which 
she  seemed  to  regard  much  more  than  Violet  her- 
self did.  ^'  So  I  am,  dear  Mrs.  Colville.  I've  no 
work  to  do  for  a  month  :  no  honid  lessons,  or 
anytlung  ;  and  I'm  come  to  ask  you  to  do  some- 
thing for  me." 

Mrs.  Colville  laughed  at  her  notion  of  happi- 
ness.    "  Well,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  Have  you  an  invitation  to  go  to  Lady  Clara 
Barrington's  pic-nic  at  St.  Hilda's  Mount  on 
Wednesday?" 

"  Yes  :  I  had  it  last  night :  and  that  just  re- 
minds me  that  I  must  go  in  and  answer  it."  But 
Mrs.  Colville  did  not  stir. 

"  Oh  !  I'm  so  glad :"  and  here  she  clapped  her 
hands  and  laughed  aloud.  "  Of  course  you'll  go," 
k2 


132 

she  added :  for  it  never  occurred  to  Violet  that 
any  one  could  be  so  senseless  as  to  refuse  a  pic-nic. 
She  did  not  quite  know  how  her  friend  had  ma- 
naged to  sleep  without  having  already  accepted  it. 

"  My  dear  child,  what  should  Mr.  Colvillc  and 
I  do  at  a  pic-nic  ?  " 

^'Do  at  a  pic-nic!  Why,  eat  cold  pie,  and 
lobster  salad,  and  drink  champagne,  and  run  all 
over  that  beautiful  place.  I  could  sit  an  hour 
looking  at  that  one  view  over  the  lake.  Besides, 
we're  to  have  music,  and  so  many  people  are 
going.     All  the  officers  from  Portbridge." 

"  And  have  no  salt  to  my  dinner :  and  if  it 
should  be  wet,  spoil  my  dress.  I'm  too  old  for 
pic-nics,  Violet."  Here  the  lady  recommenced 
operations  with  the  spud. 

"  Too  old  ?  nonsense.  And  there's  the  griffin." 
The  griffin  was  Alice  Colville. 

^'  The  griffin  is  away  from  home :  and  will  go 
from  Eastbury  with  the  Montgomeiys." 

"  Then  you'll  go  for  me,  dear  :  oh  !  I  quite  for- 
got. Madame  will  not  go  herself,  but  she  has 
given  me  leave  to  go  if  you  will  take  me." 


A  EEAL  WOMAN.  133 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  that  before?" 

"  Ah !  now  you  will  go,  I  see,    you  dear  old 

thing  you."     And  here  Violet  Carloss  commenced 

another  embrace;  and  then  sung  with  the  sweetest 

voice  in  the  world  a  favomite  waltz,  to  which  she 

danced  in  time. 

Nobody  ever  resisted  Violet,  excepting  Madame ; 

so  in  this  case  she  had  her  way. 

"  Shall  I  take  the  note  for  you,  and  send  it  to 

Lady  Clara  by  my  maid  ?  " 

"  No,  dear,  thank  you.  Let  it  go  by  post." 
"  But  then  she  won't  get  it  till  to-morrow." 
"  Well  I  that  will  be  three  days  before  the  time, 

at  any  rate." 

"  And  what   are   we   to   take  ? — plovers'  eggs, 

they're  easy  to  carry :  and  Stilton  cheese.     I  am 

so  fond  of  Stilton  cheese,  and  Madame  won't  let 

me  eat  cheese ;  she  says  it's  not  ^  comme  il  f aut.' 

I  know  what  that  means." 

"  I  hope  so,  my  dear ;  it's  time  you  did,  and 

nearly  time  you  practised  it.     How  old  are  you 

Violet — seventeen  ?" 


134         THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHEE  AND  SON. 

"  Not  quite,  yet.  I  shall  be,  next  month.  But 
what  shall  I  do?" 

"  Go  home,  dear,  and  get  cool,  first  of  all :  and 
if  you'll  be  ready  at  tlii'ee  o'clock  on  Wednesday, 
I'll  call  for  you  in  the  pony-carriage." 

"  So  I  will,  dear  Mrs.  Colville."  And  having 
given  her  another  squeeze,  she  went  away  through 
the  window.  Frank  Beauclerc  was  not  there,  so 
she  made  her  way  into  the  street,  and  walked 
home. 

Mrs.  Colville  had  a  smile  on  her  face  for  some 
minutes  after  she  left.  It  was  difficult  to  wish 
Violet  Carloss  other  than  she  was:  and  yet  she 
was  so  different  from  Mrs.  Colville's  standard  of 
excellence.  She  was  so  idle,  so  impulsive,  so  igno- 
rant, and  so  happy  in  it  all !  But  then  she  was  so 
good,  so  generous,  so  innocent,  so  lovable :  and, 
after  all,  she  wasn't  seventeen. 

I  ought  to  give  a  description  of  Violet  Carloss  : 
a  short  one,  a  mere  sketch.  The  reader  must  fill 
it  up  and  colour  it  according  to  his  taste. 

The  beauty  of  Violet  was  a  beauty  to  "  make 


A  REAL  WOMAX.  135 

virtue  shine  and  "s^ce  blush."  Such  a  beauty  as 
hers  was  better  than  all  the  letters  of  recommenda- 
tion in  the  world.  It  was  a  beauty  to  which  you 
might  have  bound  yom'self  for  life,  ^vith  the  moral 
certainty  that  it  could  never  fade  but  with  life 
itself.  It  could  never  have  grown  old :  in  her  it 
was  bound  up  with  such  enduring  love.  As  a 
mother  or  a  wife  you  could  see  that  it  would  have 
absorbed  all  proper  authority,  and  triumphed  over 
the  verv^  excellences  of  the  character:  like  every- 
thing eartlily,  it  had  its  defect.  But  it  would  have 
retained,  it  will  retain,  a  reflexion  of  its  bloom 
long  after  the  golden  light  of  its  spring-time  or  its 
summer  has  passed  away. 

She  was  verging  on  seventeen.  She  was  tall 
and  full  gro^^i  beyond  her  years,  lithe  and  grace- 
ful, and  budding  into  womanhood  somewhat  pre- 
maturely. Her  eyes  were  large,  long,  soft,  of  a 
dark  grey  colour :  hitherto  they  had  looked  at  all 
men  with  a  royal  indifference.  The  lids  were  full, 
and  the  veins  gave  amplitude  to  the  light  that 
quivered  below  them.    The  lashes  swept  her  cheek 


136    THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHEll  AND  SON. 

with  a  gentle  cui've.  Truly  they  were  "  occhi, 
stelle  mortale."  Her  brow  was  rather  low,  but 
broad  and  square;  and  hair,  the  darkest  auburn, 
waved  in  wrinkles  over  her  handsome  and  well- 
shaped  eyebrows. 

Her  nose  was  the  most  perfect  feature  in  her 
face.  It  was  small,  and  delicately  formed:  the 
nostrils  narrow,  and  the  bridge  slightly  developed 
nearly  to  the  end.  There  is  something  ridiculous 
attached  to  the  description  of  noses.  All  sentiment 
vanishes  when  we  leave  the  eyes  or  the  mouth. 
Why?  It  would  have  puzzled  you  to  have  .an- 
swered that  (juestion  had  you  seen  that  feature  in 
Violet  Carloss's  face. 

Her  mouth  was  not  small,  but  beautifully  shaped. 
The  lips  WTre  full,  and  of  a  warm  bright  colour: 
naturally  parted,  exhibiting  at  all  times  a  glimmer 
of  the  pearly  teeth  within.  The  chin,  too,  was 
round  and  firm;  very  handsome;  giving  evidence 
of  a  character  which  the  rest  of  her  features 
denied.  There  was  a  fund  of  constancy  to  bear 
(not  to   forbear),  through  good   report  and   evil 


A  FtEAL  WOMAN.  137 

report,  ^vhicli  was  looked  for  in  vain  in  the  impul- 
sive tenderness  of  the  rest  of  her  face. 

From  childhood  everybody  had  submitted  to  a 
gentle  tyranny,  which  her  beauty  rather  than  her 
nature  exercised.  The  facts  of  her  case  endorsed 
the  beautiful  notion  of  poor  Keats : 

The  first  in  beauty  should  be  first  in  might. 

As  a  child,  with  nurses,  maids,  doctors,  and  lolly- 
pop-sellers,  she  was,  not  to  make  a  pun,  facile 
princepsy  a  prince  of  easy  sway :  but  still  a  prince. 
Whenever  she  was  contradicted,  she  threw  her 
arms  round  the  dissentient's  neck,  and  covered  him 
or  her  with  kisses.  Nobody  withstood  those  bright 
round  lips,  and  the  floating  auburn  tresses  that 
tumbled  all  over  one.  Nurse  always  gave  way, 
for  Violet  laughed  at  her  good  sense,  was  not 
amenable  to  orders,  and  did  as  she  liked,  asking 
permission  after  it  was  over.  Philosophers  and  old 
maids  would  have  said,  "  Bless  me !  what  a  naughty 
little  girl ;  wouldn't  take  her  pills,  and  would  go 
out  without  her  bonnet."     In  fact,  they  did  say 


138   THE  BEAUCLEKCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

SO.  Yet  my  friend,  Dr.  Bartholomew,  positively 
idolised  her;  and  sent  her  pleasant  physic,  because 
she  would  not  take  the  nasty.  Indeed,  she  kissed 
Dr.  Bai-tlemy,  as  she  called  him,  and  desired  him 
to  send  something  equally  good  in  return,  or  he 
should  have  no  more.  The  gingerbread  and  lolly- 
pop-makers  fed  her  from  her  childhood ;  and  had 
encouraged  a  most  perverted  taste  for  Everton 
toffy  and  brandy-balls.  Alas !  age  and  indiges- 
tion always  correct  that. 

On  one  person  only  she  tried  no  blandishments. 
Madame  and  Violet  never  quarrelled,  but  they 
never  loved.  Madame  Rosenfels  thoroughly  did 
her  duty  by  the  orphan  heii'ess.  She  kept  her  in 
comfort,  as  far  as  she  could  in  luxury;  but  it 
always  seemed  as  if  a  cat  was  keeping  watch  over 
a  mouse,  for  her  own  amusement  or  profit.  She 
succumbed  to  nothing  but  a  tear,  and  then  she  did 
so  with  a  bad  grace. 

Violet  was  desperately  idle,  and,  knowledge  not 
coming  in  her  case  by  intuition,  not  veiy  well  in- 
formed. Learning  anything  at  all  as  a  lesson  was 
quite  out  of  her  way.     She  loved  sunshine,  and 


A  EEAL  WOMAN.  1^ 

kittens,  and  a  pet  dormouse  ;  and  she  had  a  rough 
terrier,  who  must  have  had  a  rough  time  of  it,  for 
she  cuddled  and  tormented  him  alternately  from 
mommg  till  night.  She  had  an  excellent  ear  for 
music,  and  a  pretty  voice.  She  could  barely  play 
her  own  accompaniments,  and,  when  left  to  her- 
self, never  did  so.  She  reminded  me  of  an  Irish 
nobleman,  who  never  walks  when  he  can  ride,  nor 
rides  when  he  can  drive,  nor  drives  when  he  can 
be  driven.  She  never  read,  and  never  listened 
when  she  was  being  read  to.  She  made  terrible 
blunders  in  a  naive  way,  at  which  everj^body 
laughed ;  and  when  any  one  ventured  to  expostu- 
late with  an  astonished  "my  dear  Violet!"  she 
stopped  the  exclaimant  with  kisses,  and  brought  up 
her  face  from  the  embrace  covered  with  blushes 
and  laughter.  Heavens  !  what  a  mass  of  smiles 
the  girl  was.  They  would  have  redeemed  the 
ugliest  face  in  Christendom.  There  are  smiles 
indicative  of  fifty  different  feelings  :  but  vary  the 
smiles  of  Violet  Carloss  as  you  will,  they  all 
ended  in  love.  There  was  a  radiance  of  goodness 
and  innocence  and  truth  all  over  her,  which  defied 


140        THE  EEAUCLEECS,  FATIIEE  AND  SON. 

ill    nature,    and   set   even   the  justest  reproof  at 
nought. 

Now  do  not  su2:)pose  that  1  am  an  advocate  for 
this  sort  of  young  person.  Forfend  it,  Heaven  ! 
The  most  dangerous  of  implements  in  the  hands 
of  society  is  a  dear,  lovable  creature  that  nobody 
has  courage  to  correct.  She  upsets  all  principles 
of  education  and  training,  gi^-es  very  little  chance 
to  the  theorists,  and  none  whatever  to  the  prac- 
tical. I  only  tell  you  what  she  was.  She  had 
thousands  of  faults.  Was  always  doing  or  saying 
injudicious  things ;  only  nobody  regarded  them  as 
such  from  her.  She  was  quite  an  irresponsible 
agent :  just  as  much  so  as  a  pet  kitten  would  have 
been.  I  ought,  too,  to  reconcile  a  curious  ano- 
maly in  her  character  in  these  days  of  universal 
"  ologies "  and  "  isms."  She  neither  knew  nor 
cared  where  the  Achelous  was :  had  most  eccen- 
tric notions  of  Calcutta,  Madras,  and  Bombay,  of 
which  she  judged,  poor  child !  by  London,  Liver- 
pool, and  Manchester  as  to  distance :  and  had 
never  heard  that  Peter  the  Great  and  Charles  the 


A  EEAL  WO^AN.  141 

Twelfth  were  contemporaries  :  yet  she  was  a  most 
amusing  companion,  said  very  excellent  things  oc- 
casionally, and  delighted  in  the  Times  newspaper. 
She  peopled  the  village  with  organ-grinders  and 
beggars  by  the  indiscriminate  alms  that  she  gave, 
and  horrified  the  philanthropists  by  denouncing 
the  union  workhouse. 

Such  was  the  heroine  of  my  stori'. 


142 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE. 

Mystery  magnifies  danger,  as  a  fog  the  sun. 

The  pupil-room  at  Hany  Colville's  looked  on 
to  the  turnpike-road :  and  as  Lymmersfield  was  a 
grand  public  thorouglifare  for  all  the  surrounding 
neighbourhood  to  the  meli'opolis,  it  was  a  favourite 
resort  for  the  candidates  for  examination.  There 
they  stood  at  the  receipt  of  custom,  either  of  the 
two  windows,  and  criticised  carriages,  dog-carts, 
broughams,  and  pony-chairs  on  their  road  to  the 
railway  station. 

From  nine  to  ten  was  the  most  popular  hour  for 


A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  143 

this  diTei*sion,  when  they  were  supposed  to  be  pre- 
paring their  work,  and  when  the  stin?et  was  alive 
with  the  patrons  of  the  daily-bread  trains  which 
accommodated  learned  Serjeants,  rismg  counsel, 
topping  attorneys.  Stock  Exchange  men,  and  City 
tradesmen  on  theii*  way  from  their  ^illas  to  their 
vai'ious  occupations. 

The  room  of  which  we  speak  had  few  pecu- 
liarities worth  mentioning.  Two- thirds  of  the  wall 
was  devoted  to  books,  and  the  rest  was  occupied 
bv  windows  and  doors.  There  was  a  large  table 
in  the  middle  :  about  ten  strong  serviceable  chairs, 
and  there  was  a  fireplace,  of  course  not  lighted, 
though  laid  even  m  the  middle  of  July,  i*eady  for 
an  emergency.  Colville's  arni-chaii*  occupied  one 
comer,  and  by  its  side  was  a  small  table,  on 
which  were  -^Titing  materials,  and  a  book  or  two  : 
Arnold's  '-  Thucydides '  and  Aristotle's  '^  Ethics." 
On  the  larger  table  were  some  works  more  popular 
with  the  present  occupants  of  the  study.  Some 
short  cuts  to  a  "  satisfactoiy  result,"  kno^-n  under 
the  populai'ly  fallacious  name  of  '*  knowledge :"  as 


144        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

Clie})meirs  "  History,"  Authon's  "  Caesar''  and 
"  Homer/'  and  all  the  direct  commission  examina- 
tion papers  of  tlie  last  three  years.  Against  the 
wall  was  a  black  board,  on  which  in  chalk  were 
the  two  sides  of  a  simple  equation,  and  a  figure  of 
the  forty-seventh  proposition  of  the  first  book  of 
Euclid. 

Its  present  occupants  were  four  boys,  who 
called  themselves  men.  They  would  have  been 
so,  if  seventeen  or  eighteen  summers,  capacious 
pockets,  neat  boots,  well-cut  clothes,  and  consider- 
able self-sufficiency,  gave  any  sort  of  claim  to  the 
distinction.  Two  of  them  were  from  Eton,  one 
from  Harrow,  the  fourth  was  from  a  private  esta- 
blishment conducted  on  the  modern  system;  he 
had  a  little  more  modesty,  but  not  more  knowledge 
than  the  rest. 

Bentley  stood  with  his  back  to  the  unlighted 
fireplace,  leaning  against  the  mantelpiece,  with  his 
hands  buried  fathom-deep  in  his  pockets.  He  was 
staring  out  of  window:  and  from  his  occasional 
remarks  there  was  plenty  to  stare  at. 


A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  145 

'^  There  goes  Manning  in  his  brougham.  What 
the  d — 1  does  he  wear  a  white  choker  for? 
La"vvyers  have  no  business  with  white  chokers  ; 
only  waiters  and  parsons." 

"  But  he's  a  churchwarden,"  said  Standish,  the 
private  school  pupil,  whose  views  were  less  'pro- 
nonces  than  those  of  his  companion  :  "  besides, 
just  look  at  the  lot  of  money  he  gave  to  the  new 
church." 

"And  just  look  at  the  poor  devils  of  clients  he 
took  it  out  of.  I  should  like  to  see  them :  there's 
nothing  like  justice  in  tliis  world,  is  there,  Gorse- 
hampton  ?  " 

Lord  Gorsehampton  was  reading,  or  trying  to 
read ;  but  he  looked  up,  and  said,  "  No :  nothing 
at  all  like  it :  somebody's  always  making  a  row 
about  somethincr  or  other." 

"  There  goes  Lady  Clara  Barrington.  What  a 
capital  judge  of  a  horse  Barrington  is." 

"Who  says  so?"  said  young  Pitt,  late  of  the 
fifth  form  at  Harrow,  who,  being  the  son  of  a 
master  of  hounds,  thought  this  an  incursion  on 

VOL.  I.  L 


14G        THE  BEAUCLEKCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

his  especial  prerogative  :  besides,  lie  was  fond  of 
taking  down  Bentley,  who,  being  in  a  hke  posi- 
tion, gave  himself  airs,  and  was  Eton. 

"Who  says  so? — why,  why,  everybody  says 
so !  "  rejoined  Bentley. 

"  What,  all  the  people  about  here  ?  " 

"  Yes,  everybody ! " 

"  Ah  !  then,  it  can't  be  true  :  for  I've  heard 
you  say  a  hundred  times  nobody  knows  anything 
about  a  horse  here ;  so  everybody's  judgment  can't 
be  worth  much." 

"But  he  is  a  very  good  judge,"  said  Lord 
Gorsehampton,  "  and  always  drives  and  rides 
capital  cattle." 

"  I  didn't  say  he  wasn't.  I  only  asked  who  said 
so ;  and  Bentley  said  a  great  many  people  who 
didn't  know  anything  about  it.  Are  you  going  to 
the  pic-nic  at  St.  Hilda's  Mount,  Gorsehampton?" 
inquired  Bentley,  after  a  pause. 

"  Not  if  I  know  it.     When  is  it  ?  " 

"  To-morrow  :  didn't  you  have  a  ticket  ?  " 

"Yes,"    said    the    indolent   young    aristocrat; 


A  NEW  ACQUAINTAXCE.  147 

"  Lady  Clara  said  something  about  it,  but  I 
forgot  it.     Who's  going  ?  " 

"  ViliY,  the  !Montgonieiys,  and  the  Barkers,  and 
the  Trefusis,  and  the  officers  from  Portbridge,  and 
I  think  I  shall  go." 

"  Then  I  certainly  shall  not,"'  said  Carr.  "  I 
shall  go  on  the  river." 

"  What  difference  can  my  going  make  to  you,  I 
should  like  to  know  ? "  said  Bentley,  who  w^as 
getting  a  little  savage. 

"  We  should  have  to  come  back  together,  and 
the  strength  of  your  tobacco,  with  the  windows 
up,  is  quite  insufferable."  Here  the  rest  of  them 
laughed  so  cheerfully,  that  Bentley  was  obliged 
to  assume  good  humour.  So  he  asked  whether 
Beauclerc  was  going. 

"  Of  com'se  he  is,"  said  Standish. 

"  Why  of  course '?     I  don't  see  it." 

"  He's  spooney  on  that  pretty  girl,  Violet  Car- 
loss,  and  she's  going :  I  heard  ^Ii's.  Colville  tell 
the  governor  so." 

"What's  your  idea  of  being  spooney,  Stand- 
l2 


148 

isli  ? "  said  Lord  Gorseliampton :  "  I  should  be 
curious  to  see  Beauclerc  in  that  state.  What 
makes  you  think  Beauclerc  is  spooney  on  Violet 
Carloss  ?  " 

"Well,  I'll  tell  you.  He  walked  up  to  their 
house  with  them  on  Sunday  after  church,  and  it's 
more  than  half  a  mile  out  of  the  way :  besides,  I 
saw  him  carrying  her  prayer-book.  If  you  don't 
call  that  being  spooney,  I  should  just  like  to  know 
your  idea  of  it." 

"  I  quite  agree  with  you,  my  dear  fellow,"  said 
Gorsehampton.  "I  never  knew  a  stronger  case. 
I  dare  say  the  pic-nic  will  be  good  fun.  I  think 
I  shall  go,  if  it's  not  too  hot.  Let's  all  go :  we 
can  get  a  fly." 

Just  at  this  point  of  this  animated  discussion 
the  study  door  opened,  and  Beauclerc  came  in. 

"  Beauclerc,  they  say  you're  going  to  Lady 
Clara's  pic-nic.  She's  given  a  sort  of  invite  to 
the  house,  and  some  of  us  think  of  going." 

"  So  much  the  better.  The  more  the  merrier," 
said  Frank. 


A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  149 

"  Will  you  join  us  ?  We  want  something  to  go 
in  :  a  fly,  or  a  phaeton,  or  an  omnibus.  We  must 
have  two  horses  :  it's  such  a  deuce  of  a  pull  to  the 
top  of  the  mount." 

"  I  can't  go  with  you  fellows :  for  I  dine  and 
sleep  at  Ashdale  the  day  before,  and  I  shall  drive 
from  there." 

"  Is  that  Lord  Ashdale's  place  ?  "  asked  Pitt. 

"  Yes  :  he's  a  cousin  of  mine,  and  Fred  Ash- 
dale is  quartered  at  Portbridge  just  now.  Do  you 
know  him  ?  " 

"  We  w^ere  at  Eton  at  the  same  dame's,  and  in 
the  same  form  a  good  part  of  the  time.  Wliat  a 
capital  fellow  he  is  !  " 

"  I  think  if  you  spoke  to  Colville  or  Mrs.  Col- 
ville,  you  might  all  go  together  in  Faulkner's 
'bus :  she  has  to  take  INIiss  Carloss."  Saying 
which,  he  left  the  room,  whistling  an  air  from 
the  Trovatore. 

"I  say,  Bentley,  I  don't  think  he's  so  very 
spooney,  after  all,"  said  his  Lordship.  "  You 
might  cut  him  out,  if  you  tried  hard." 


150   THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

"  I  don't  tliink  he'll  clie  of  it  this  time,  at  all 
events,*'  said  another.  "  However,  I  "\'ote  we 
propose  it  to  the  governor,  and  see  what  he 
says." 

"  I  recollect  now,  I  heard  of  Frank  Beauclerc 
being  at  Ashdale's  for  his  winter  holidays.  Lord 
Ashdale  was  master  of  the  hounds  last  season, 
and  there  was  an  account  of  an  extraordinaiy 
run,  which  no  one  saw  excepting  Lord  Ashdale 
himself  and  Beauclerc.  I'd  no  idea  it  was  the 
same." 

"  By  Jove ! "  said  Pitt,  "  he  ought  to  be  pa- 
tronised." 

"  He  don't  look  to  me  as  if  he  would  stand 
much  patronage.  It  might  spoil  him,  Pitt,"  said 
Lord  Gorsehampton,  from  the  middle  of  a  propo- 
sition. Li  truth,  I  think  his  Lordship,  with  all 
his  inexperience,  was  right.  Just  then  Colvillc 
entered  the  room.  "  Will  you  join  us,  sir,  in  an 
omnibus  to  go  to  Lady  Clara's  pic-nic  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Mr.  Colville.  "  I  suppose  I  must 
go,  if  you  all  go." 


A  XEW  ACQUAIXTAXCE.  151 

" Then  tliat's  fiAe  of  us,"  said  Lord  Gorse- 
hampton.     "  I'll  order  the  'bus." 

"  Yes,  tliere'll  be  plenty  of  room,"  replied  tlieir 
tutor.  "Miss  Carloss  and  ^Irs.  Colville  are  going 
to  drive  in  the  pony-cliaii\" 

The  faces  of  more  than  one  of  the  party  were 
exceedingly  blank.  Whether  a  natural  taste  for 
ladies'  society  had  led  to  the  proposition,  or  an 
especial  fancy  for  these  two  in  particular,  I  cannot 
say.  At  all  events,  it  was  too  late  to  retract ;  so? 
instead  of  a  phaeton  or  a  fly,  and  a  plentiful 
supply  of  tobacco,  they  were  condemned  to  the 
company  of  the  Eev.  Harry  CoMlle  and  an 
omnibus :  and  very  good  company  it  was,  too. 
"  By  Jove !  look  at  Madame  ;  she's  off  to  toA\ai ! " 

Time  had  dealt  leniently  with  Madame  Rosen- 
fels  since  we  were  last  in  her  company.  She  was 
still  as  good-looking  as  ever  :  well  preserved :  and 
handsomely  dressed :  her  jewelleiy,  although  it 
was  morning,  was  remarkably  good,  and,  if  plen- 
tiful, selected  with  much  care  as  to  its  value  and 
propriety.     It   was   massive,    and   of   the   Italian 


152    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

type :  and  the  gems  among  it  were  rare  and  of 
the  finest  water.  Her  straight,  cleanly-cut  fea- 
tures were  the  least  likely  to  have  suffered  from 
time.  With  the  exception  of  a  little  hardness, 
there  was  no  alteration  in  thirteen  years. 

Wliy  was  Madame  still  a  widow  ?  Everybody 
asked  the  question,  but  no  one  answered  it  satis- 
factorily :  and  no  man  solved  it  by  cutting  the 
Gordian  knot. 

Madame  Rosenfels  was  ambitious.  That's  the 
truth.  Like  many  clever  women,  she  felt  her 
power,  and  intended  greater  things  than  common. 
There  was  another  pourquoi  in  the  case.  For 
some  reason  or  other,  she  affected  mystery  or  con- 
cealment. Now,  Madame  was  just  the  person  to 
have  won  her  way  in  a  crowd.  L}Tnmersfield,  a 
picturesque,  quasi -suburban  village,  was  neither 
far  enough  off  from,  nor  near  enough  to,  London 
to  make  it  available  as  a  matrimonial  market  in 
her  sense  of  the  term.  The  people  were  migra- 
tory, the  men  especially :  and  they  lived  on  the 
railroad.     A   widow   does   most   mischief   in   the 


A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  153 

morning ;  the  evening  is  the  time  for  the  fire-flies 
to  exhibit. 

Besides,  for  the  present,  what  more  was  to  be  got 
than  she  already  possessed  ?  A  comfortable  home, 
and  some  luxm'ies  :  the  management  of  somebody- 
else's  money  almost  without  control  :  to  be  ex- 
changed for  an  uncertainty.  She  had  put  herself 
down  at  a  thousand  a  year,  and  a  man  wdiom  she 
could  profess  to  love  or  to  admii'e ;  and  Lymmers- 
field  had  not  yet  presented  her  with  the  opportmiity. 

Lymmersfield  was  a  mistake.  Brighton,  Bath, 
Cheltenham,  Malvern  even,  might  have  done : 
and  sometimes  she  thought  of  giving  them  a 
trial.     One  consideration  prevented  it. 

Immediately  previous  to  the  death  of  Major 
Carloss  he  had  become  acquainted,  by  some  ordi- 
nary commmiication,  with  the  Colvilles'  residence 
at  Lymmersfield.  A  correspondence  ensued.  Hariy 
Colville  had  been  an  intimate  friend  of  some  of 
the  Major's  family,  and  at  the  Major's  death  he 
found  himself  associated,  to  a  certain  extent,  in 
the  guardianship  of  Violet  and  her  property.     It 


154 


was  clear  that  If  Madame  Rosenfels  changed  her 
name  again,  Violet  would  seek  a  home  with  the 
Colvilles.  She  was  not  empowered  to  do  so,  so 
long  as  Madame,  her  mother's  earliest  friend,  had 
an  independent  and  undivided  one  to  offer. 

Madame  was  extravagant :  personally  so  rather 
than  otherwise.  Handsome  women  frequently  are 
so  without  intending  it.  The  previous  co-guar- 
dian. General  Fletcher,  who  was  now  dead,  had 
been  a  singularly  apathetic  and  easy-going  person. 
He  had  been  put  to  some  trouble  (he  cared  no- 
thing for  expense)  about  a  trumpery  three  hun- 
dred pounds  which  was  unaccounted  for.  Ma- 
dame's  oratory  and  eyelashes  were  too  much  for 
him,  and  he  resigned  the  inquiry  and  the  guar- 
dianship together.  From  that  time  real  responsi- 
bility rested  only  with  Madame,  who,  however,  for 
her  credit's  sake,  suggested  some  mutual  friend 
as  a  coadjutor.  Unprotected  females  are  fond  of 
listening  to  advice,  as  they  would  pay  for  a  pre- 
scription, without  much  idea  of  taking  it. 


A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  155 

The  Major  was  singularly  unlucky  in  his  choice 
once  more.  Harry  Colville  had  a  dozen  irons  in 
the  fire,  and  the  only  thing  of  which  he  knew 
absolutely  nothing  was  money.  His  wife  managed 
his  house,  signed  his  cheques,  and  paid  his  bills : 
presenting  him  -svith  wdiat  he  wanted.  It  was 
usually  sixpence  to  pay  the  turnpike,  and  not  that 
when  she  was  with  him.  As  to  suspicions  of  other 
people's  money  matters  going  wi'ong,  that  never 
crossed  his  brain. 

Adelaide  Rosenfels  sat  in  her  chaise  lono;ue  of 
the  most  comfortable  fashion,  looking  out  on  a 
small  but  well-kept  lawn.  She  was  reading  a 
French  novel,  for  she  liked  her  luxuries ;  and  we 
need  not  venture  upon  classing  that  with  the 
necessaries  of  life.  Some  women  declare  they 
cannot  live  without  singing-birds  and  scarlet  gera- 
niums, without  Pivet's  gloves,  or  Melnotte's  boots,  a 
French  maid,  or  a  Dutch  poodle :  we  presume  they 
have  never  tried.  Madame  said  the  same  of 
French  romances.      Whether  they  consoled  her 


156        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATKER  AND  SON. 

for  the  omission  of  good,  or  nen^ed  her  for  the  com- 
mission of  evil,  I  cannot  tclL 

Violet  Carloss  was  gone  into  the  village  to  buy- 
some  tarlatan,  to  beg  some  exotics  which  she  could 
not  buy,  and  to  call  upon  a  poor  old  woman,  whose 
cow  had  died  in  the  night  in  full  milk.  ^ladame 
had  the  house  to  herself. 

The  door  opened,  and  a  very  respectable-looking 
woman  of  middle  age,  and  presenting  the  appear- 
ance of  a  high  class  of  servant,  brought  in  a  note 
on  a  waiter,  adding,  "  There's  somebody  waiting  to 
see  you,  ma'am.  The  person  who  brought  that 
note." 

Madame  Kosenfels  did  as  many  do  on  a  hot 
day ;  instead  of  looking  inside  of  the  letter,  she 
turned  it  upside  down  three  or  four  times,  inspect- 
ing the  writing  and  the  seal  minutely,  and  then 
replied  to  her  servant : 

"  Who  is  it,  and  what  does  he  want  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know,  ma'am.  It's  a  woman — a  woman 
of  colour."  ^ladame  Rosenfels  was  not  a  woman 
of  colour  at  any  time :  at  that  moment  less  so  than 


A  NEW  ACQUAINTANCE.  157 

usual ;  but  iii  a  second  the  blood  returned  to  her 
face  with  too  great  violence,  and  she  became  con- 
scious of  a  very  unusual  blush  upon  her  usually 
pale  clear  face. 

"  Tell  her  to  sit  do^vn,  and  I  will  see  her  imme- 
diately." 

The  letter  was  one  of  mere  recommendation 
from  the  lawyer  who  had  been  employed  in  Miss 
Carloss's  affairs  when  necessary.  It  mentioned  the 
arrival  from  India  of  a  person  who  had  inquired 
her  address,  and,  being  no  great  proficient  in  our 
language,  had  begged  a  letter  in  case  of  need. 

And  yet  Madame  Rosenfels  felt  very  uncom- 
fortable. 

The  fii'm  of  Fleecehall  and  Shearham  was  a 
most  respectable  firm.  Fleecehall  did  the  business  : 
Shearham  was  the  man  of  pleasiure,  and  made 
himself  agreeable  to  the  clients.  He  had  once  cast 
his  eyes  on  Madame  Rosenfels.  It  was  before  he 
knew  the  exact  extent  of  her  income  and  whence 
she  derived  it.  He  had  since  been  grateful  for  the 
rejection,  but  remained  a  devoted  admirer. 


158        THE  BEAUCLEllUS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

jMadame  went  up-stalrs,  and  came  down  again 
refreshed.  Looking  indeed  more  than  herself : 
when  the  "  woman  of  coloui'"  presented  herself  at 
the  door. 

"  Baba ! "  The  surprise  on  Madame's  pai't  was 
well  acted. 

"  Madame  ! "  Such  were  the  exclamations  ;  and 
then  followed  a  series  of  natural  questions,  such  as 
might  be  expected  between  mistress  and  maid  who 
had  not  met  for  thirteen  years. 

^'Baba,  you  are  a  little  changed.  You  don't 
look  well."     And  she  gave  her  a  chair. 

"Et  Yous,  Madame,  and  you  so  well."  Then 
the  conversation  continued  in  French,  for  Baba 
was  a  French  Indian  :  and  had  been  living  long  in 
Pondicherry  with  a  French  family:  doubtless  a 
useful  woman,  who  made  a  pillau  out  of  as  Httle  as 
most  people,  and  dressed  the  young  ladies'  hair 
equally  well.  "  And  my  Httle  girl,  Madame ?" 

"  Yes — your  little  girl  is  become  a  great  beauty ; 
you  shall  see  her.  Ah!  here  she  comes:  Violet 
dear:  here's  Niu'se  Baba  come  all  the  way  from 


A  XEAV  ACQUAIXTAXCE.  159 

India  to  see  you."  Nurse  Baba's  features  exliilDited 
considerable  surprise  at  something. 

Violet  Carloss  was  delighted  to  see  her  nurse  of 
whom  she  had  heard  not  much :  she  knew  that  a 
nm'se  had  come  over  -v^qth  her  and  her  little  cousin ; 
but  that  was  all.  She  had  foro;otten  the  cousin 
and  the  nurse  too. 

Baba's  conversation  in  the  sen'ants'  apartments 
was  in  praise  of  Mss  Carloss.  Beyond  that  it  was 
difficult  to  get.  She  seemed  mightily  puzzled  by 
the  name,  and  repeated  "  Violet ! "  "  Violet ! "  to 
herself  several  times  over.  "Par  hasard,"  said 
she,  in  very  unintelligible  English,  "was  it  Miss 
Marguerite." 

Before  Baba  returned  to  town  she  had  another 
interview  with  Madame  Rosenfels.  Violet  was 
away  from  home  dm'ing  the  time. 

"  And  what  are  you  going  to  do  with  yoiu'self — 
stop  in  England  ?  "  said  Madame. 

"  It  is  so  triste,  Madame.  And  now  I  get  old  I 
must  go  to  France  or  India.  I  have  friends  in 
both." 


160   THE  BEAUCLEKCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

"  Certainly.  It  is  tristc.  Can  I  be  of  assistance 
to  you?  I  shall  be  delighted  if  I  can  find  any 
situation  that  would  be  of  service  to  you  on  the 
Continent,  or  in  India.  Here  it  is  scarcely  pro- 
bable that  I  shall  be  able  to  serve  you." 

She  was  lavish  of  her  thanks.  "  Madame  was 
always  so  kind." 

"And  Miss  Marguerite?  Shall  I  see  her 
again  ?  "  inquired  the  woman. 

"  Margaret :  ah !  nurse,  you  forget.  Poor  little 
thing.     We  shall  all  see  her  again." 

Madame  was  not  a  religious  character ;  but  she 
had  her  belief,  and  it  was  a  creditable  and  conso- 
latory one  in  this  respect.     So  thought  Baba. 

"Ah!  Miss  Violet,  of  course,  but "     And 

here  ensued  a  pause,  until  the  old  Indian  began 
muttering  the  two  names,  as  if  balancing  their 
value. 

"Baba!  what  are  you  talking  about?  Come 
with  me.  I  have  something  to  show  you  in  my 
wardrobe.  Margaret  left  a  little  present  behind 
for  those  who  were  kind  to  her  in  her  last  illness." 


A  XEW  ACQUAIXTAXCE.  161 

Madame  led  the  Indian,  still  exhibiting  some 
signs  of  astonishment,  into  a  luxuriously  furnished 
bedroom.  From  a  small  chest  of  drawers,  she 
unlocked  and  drew  out  the  bottom  one  of  all.  It 
contained  much  female  gear,  ribbons,  embroidery, 
lappets  of  point  lace,  and  other  gauze-like  and  gos- 
samer articles  of  adornment.  From  one  corner 
Madame  drew  forth  several  baby  dresses  rolled  up 
roughly,  but  of  costly  work  and  materials.  On 
each  and  all  was  marked  the  name  of  "  Margaret." 

"There,  Baba,  are  the  little  frocks  and  caps; 
and  there's  one  with  Brussels  lace  on  it  that  we 
have  put  by  for  you :  you  must  take  the  mark  out 
when  you  have  time."  Baba  looked  pleased  but 
puzzled.  "  And  there  was  a  little  present,  too,  to 
be  given  to  you,  which  will  be  still  more  useful,  I 
hope,  and  help  you  to  get  back  to  India."  Saying 
which,  the  graceful  Madame  Rosenfels  slipped  a 
note  into  the  hand  of  her  old  nurse,  which  sounded 
crisper  and  looked  less  soiled  than  might  have 
been  expected  from  the  date  of  the  legacy. 

Baba  was  a  French  East  Indian.     Could  she 

VOL.  I.  :m 


162    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

contradict  so  clever  and  so  excellent  a  woman  as 
Madame  ?  So  slie  went  up  to  London  from  the 
Lymmersfield  station ;  and  it  gave  her  an  hour  to 
think  what  an  old  imbecile  she  had  become  in  a 
dozen  years,  before  her  friends  met  her  and  carried 
her  off  from  the  curious  gaze  of  the  travelling 
public. 


163 


CELiPTER  IX. 

A  PIC-XIC. 
2s ow  comes  a  calL  that  conquers  all  resistance. 

COLLESS. 

"  "WhePwE  ai'e  you  going,  Beauclerc  ? "'  said 
Pitt,  einittiug  a  cloud  of  Cavendisli  and  bii'd's- 
eye  out  of  his  moutli,  on  the  morning  before  the 
pic-nic,  emerging  from  the  greenhouse  after  break- 
fast, where  he  had  been,  as  he  said,  improving 
the  plants. 

"  I'm  going  to  dimier  at  Ashdale,  by  train,  to- 
day;    and   I   shall   meet  you   all    at    St.  Hildas 
Mount  to-morrow.     How  do  you  iro  "? 
m2 


?  ?» 


164        THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHEE  AND  SON. 

"  Oil !  such  a  sell :  Colville  offered  to  share  the 
'bus  with  us,  so  of  course  we  agreed  ;  and  then  he 
let  out  that  Violet  Carloss  was  going  in  the  pony- 
chair." 

"  I  don't  see  what  difference  that  could  make  to 
you  ?  "  said  Frank,  doggedly. 

"  Don't  you.  Why,  we  only  wanted  to  go  for 
the  fun  of  going  with  her,  you  know." 

"  Really ;  whose  notion  is  that  ?  " 

"  Bentley's,  to  be  sure.  Didn't  you  know  he's 
tremendous  sweet  on  her  ?  That's  why  he  smells 
so  awfully  of  scent — jockey-club,  I  think  it  is  : 
and  don't  you  see  how  particular  he  is  about  his 
back  hair  ?  He  sits  just  before  her  and  Madame 
What's-her-name  in  church,"  said  Pitt. 

"  But  I  thought  he  didn't  know  them." 

"No  more  he  does  much.  But  she  comes  to 
Colville's  very  often,  and  he's  taken  to  going  into 
the  drawing-room  lately  of  an  evening:  so  ^Irs. 
Colville  patronises  him.  He  has  just  discovered 
that  he  is  exceedingly  fond  of  Beethoven." 

"  And  why  don't  you  go  into  the  drawing-room 


A  Pic-xic.  165 

too,  instead  of  going  up  to  that  villanous  tap  at 
the  Fox  and  Hounds  ?  " 

''  Oh !  hanfi-  that !  there's  nothinoj  to  do  there 
excepting  to  read,  or  hear  the  griffin  play  and 
sing  ;  besides,  I  know  all  her  songs."  The  Griffin 
sang  and  played  very  well,  not^\^thstanding. 

"  Where  are  you  going  now,  Pitt  ?  I'm  going 
up  here  to  get  a  dog-collar  for  Pixie." 

"And  I'm  going  to  have  some  beer  before 
lecture."  With  that  they  parted  :  their  roads 
lying  as  widely  apart  as  their  inclinations. 

If  ever  there  was  a  mistake  in  the  educational 
system,  it  is  in  the  necessity  (for  it  is  a  necessity) 
for  private  preparation  for  competitive  exami- 
nation. If  Eton  and  Harrow  do  nothing  more, 
they  do  insist  upon  discipline :  they  do  give  autho- 
rity for  the  punishment  of  faults  :  they  practically 
keep  pipes  and  beer  without  the  limits  of  disco- 
very :  there  is  no  avowed  impunity  for  them  :  and 
they  have  some  check  upon  a  love  of  low  company. 
There  are  conscientious  men  in  the  world  who 
will  look  after  the  idlers  entrusted  to  them ;  who 


IGG 

see  a  duty  beyond  the  reigns  of  the  kings  of 
England,  or  the  solution  of  an  equation.  But  it 
requires  a  clever  tactician  to  keep  the  twig  straight 
just  under  the  circumstances  and  at  the  time  it  is 
most  given  to  bend. 

Colville  had  had  his  fair  share  of  experience, 
and  he  found  the  cunning  of  the  serpent  as  useful 
as  the  innocence  of  the  dove. 

The  morning  of  Wednesday,  the  —  of  July, 
Avas  as  bright  and  lovely  as  mornings  in  July  fre- 
quently are.  A  curling  vapour,  through  which 
the  sun's  rays  were  penetrating,  bespoke  certain 
heat.  The  dew  hung  yet  upon  the  flowers,  for 
not  a  cloud  had  returned  her  radiating  warmth  to 
the  earth,  when  she  poured  it  forth  through  the  still 
hours  of  the  night.  It  bade  fair  to  be  a  day  for  a 
pic-nic,  without  alloy. 

Some  people  dislike  pic-nics.  I  do  not  venture  to 
give  an  opinion  either  way.  They  are  provoldng 
and  provocative.  Provoking  in  an  English  cli- 
mate, as  throwing  a  doubt  over  the  certainty  of 
their  fulfilment :  provocative  of  love  and  indigos- 


A  PIC-NIO.  167 

tion  ;  both  which  states  of  being  should  be  entered 
upon  with  great  consideration.  I  suit  my  views 
to  my  company;  and,  as  the  father  of  a  large 
family,  have  plenty  of  exercise  for  my  ingenuity. 

Barrington  could  not  endure  them.  "  For  a 
man  who  could  afford  a  Turkey  carpet,  a  maho- 
gany table,  good  claret,  and  an  attentive  butler, 
to  dine  on  wet  grass  or  hot  turf,  wdtli  half-flat 
claret,  after  laying  his  own  cloth,  and  uncorking 
his  own  champagne,  is  preposterous  —  positively 
preposterous,  Clara ! "  Lady  Clara  was  of  a 
different  opinion.  She  thought  nothing  so  charm- 
ing as  a  dinner  at  St.  Hilda's  Mount :  true,  it 
w^as  but  six  miles  from  Lymmersfield  Park,  and 
she  could  have  gone  there  every  day;  but  then 
she  never  did,  excepting  on  these  occasions.  She 
liked  getting  wet,  by  way  of  a  change  :  ordi- 
nary life  was  dry  enough  in  all  conscience.  She 
preferred  her  claret  a  little  flat  sometimesy  and  she 
should  have  plenty  of  people  to  wait  upon  her. 
Barrington,  who  was  a  good-looking,  good-tem- 
pered swell,  ex-captain  of   the  —  Life   Guards, 


168 

Avould  ride  up  in  the  cool  of  the  day,  if  lie  could 
find  it,  and  return  to  an  eight  o'clock  dinner. 
The  vicAvs  ^vere  beautiful,  and  they  meant  to  go 
on  the  lake. 

Lady  Clara  "svas  like  most  -women  -svho  are 
young  and  pretty  :  especially  when  they  are  so 
unfortunate  as  to  have  no  domestic  troubles  or 
incumbrances.  She  liked  pleasure ;  admiration ; 
ahandon :  it  was  something  different  from  the 
Belgravian  pattern  of  which  she  had  just  under- 
gone six  weeks'  probation.  Eotten  Eow  was  charm- 
ing then ;  but  her  taste  was  pure  enough  to  prefer 
St.  Hilda's  now. 

I  find  all  men,  of  a  certain  age,  something  like 
Barrington.  Love-making,  especially  in  other 
people,  gives  us  very  little  satisfaction.  We  have 
most  of  us  seen  a  fine  country  or  two,  and  prefer 
Leicestershire :  and  have  had  so  many  bad  din- 
ners that  we  are  disinclined  to  add  to  the  number. 
A  grey  beard  at  a  pic-nic  ought  to  wag  with  asto- 
nishment at  finding  itself  there. 

Of  one  }'oung  lady  the  enjopnent  was  likely  to 


A  PIC-NIC.  169 

be  as  unmistakable  as  it  was  pure.  Violet  Carloss 
was  coming  out  to-day.  Her  notion  of  the  ma- 
terial world  was  Lady  Clara,  on  the  top  of  St. 
Hilda's  Mount,  making  a  salad,  and  thirty  people 
in  charming  costumes  waiting  to  partake  of  it. 
The  background  was  grouped  with  blue  sky, 
water,  trees,  birds,  and  fishing-boats ;  and  the 
middle  distance  with  mail-phaetons,  open  ba- 
rouches, and  pony-carriages.  Her  notion  of  the 
moral  world  was  an  universal  philanthropy,  which 
diminished  or  increased  irrationally  towards  cer- 
tain persons  without  reference  to  anything  but  her 
own  free  will.  It  should  be  observed  that  in  this 
moral  thermometer  the  mercmy  in  Violet  had 
never  yet  reached  freezing  point,  while  it  was 
prepared  to  ascend  to  any  height  whatever. 

Poor  child  !  how  very  happy  she  was  by  nature 
intended  to  be !  She  had  somethino:  to  learn  in 
which  dulness  of  comprehension  is  a  great 
blessino;. 

She  has  to  learn  that  the  world  is  not  all  sun- 
shine   and   flowers  ;    that   woman    can    be    trea- 


170        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

cherous,  man  self-interested  ;  tliat  our  best  feelings 
may  be  made  the  severest  instruments  of  our  tor- 
ture :  tliat  hypocrisy  is  the  homage  that  vice 
pays  to  virtue  :  that  the  world  is  made  up  of 
tinsel.  She  has  to  learn  that  the  warmth  of  a 
caress  is  no  criterion  of  its  honesty ;  that  heat  on 
the  surface,  like  blood  from  the  heart,  leaves  an 
icicle  within.  To  be  sure  the  purchase  of  this 
experience  will  be  sweet  enough :  its  possession — 
bitter.  Her  lesson  will  be  conned  in  a  world  of 
appearances  :  and,  on  a  path  strewed  with  flowers, 
poor  Violet,  like  others,  must  pick  up  her  thorns. 
And  then  she  has  something  more  to  discover : 
that  adversity  has  its  merits — that  she  must  be 
evil  thought  of,  or  spoken  of,  when  blameless ; 
that  she  must  suffer  for  the  short-comino;s  of 
others ;  and  that  "  the  fathers  have  eaten  sour 
grapes,  and  the  children's  teeth  are  set  on  edge." 
Then  she  will  know,  to  her  OAvn  profit,  tliat  she 
may  look  inwardly  for  consolation,  and  tliat  she 
will  find  it  when  her  whole  and  absolute  de- 
pendence is  upon  God. 


A  PIC-NIC.  171 

Bj  five  o'clock  tlie  last  carriage  had  reached  St. 
Hilda's  Mount. 

"  And  now  what  shall  we  do  ? "  said  Lady 
Clara,  charmingly  dressed,  in  the  lightest  of 
summer  fineiy?  a,nd  looking  the  picture  of 
English  good  humour  and  enjoyment.  "  What 
shall  we  do  ?  Lunch  first,  or  walk  to  the  ruins, 
or  go  on  the  water '?  " 

"  Lunch  first,  Lady  Clara,  by  all  means  :  it 
will  give  us  an  appetite  for  sight-seeing."  Saying 
which,  the  gallant  Colonel  Twigg,  tin-owing  his 
rein  to  his  servant,  dismounted,  and  offered  his 
hand  to  her  ladyship.  She  came  down  from  a 
well-appointed  barouche;  and  her  two  sisters, 
equally  splendid,  but  more  youthful  in  costume, 
followed  her. 

"  Violet,  you  must  come  and  sit  by  me.  Where's 
Madame  ?  Not  come  ?  Not  come  to  my  pic-nic  ? 
Well,  we  must  do  without  her.  And  whr  did  you 
come  with  ?  " 

^•With  IMrs.  Colvllle.  ^Madame  Eosenfels  is 
not  very  well ;  and  said  I  was  to  say  everything 


172        THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

most  kind  to  you  for  licr.  She  goes  out  so 
seldom."  The  fact  is,  that  Madame  had  refused 
for  both,  originally ;  but  Had  been  over-persuaded 
by  her  ladyship's  eloquence :  so  she  sent  Violet 
as  a  compromise. 

Then  the  hampers  were  made  to  descend  from 
tlieir  places  on  the  carriage  :  and  Captain  Slow- 
come  turned  up  liis  shirt-sleeves  and  commenced 
a  search  in  the  straw.  Glorious  long-necked 
bottles  were  extracted.  Ice  was  discovered  :  a 
piece  of  which,  au  naturel,  Lady  Sarah  Slaughter- 
man appropriated  at  once,  staining  her  gloves  and 
spoiling  her  bonnet-strings. 

"  Sarah,  dear  ! "  said  Lady  Clara,  reprovingly. 

"  Can't  help  it,  dear ;  that  carriage  of  yours  is 
like  an  oven.  Just  look  at  me.  Captain  Ashdale  " 
(that  languid  individual  had  just  arrived)  ;  "  don't 
I  look  dreadful?" 

"  Terrible  indeed.  Lady  Sarah.  Apply  to  my 
friend  Boldover  here ;  he's  the  coolest  hand  I've 
ever  known."  Lady  Sarah  looked  up,  and  there 
recognised  an  old  acquaintance  in  the  phaeton. 

"  Major  Boldover  :    now   pray   make   yom'self 


A  pic-xic.  173 

useful.  Come  do"\^*ii  and  dress  tlie  salad.  AYliere 
did  you  come  from  ? "  Boldover  obeyed,  and 
answered,  in  one  breath  : 

"I  came  from  Ireland  last  nio;lit."  Here  the 
Major  ahghted  from  the  phaeton,  and,  having 
made  a  comprehensive  sort  of  bow,  seized  a 
cucumber  in  his  left  hand.  "How  can  I  cut  it 
Avithout  'ere  a  knife  ? "  said  the  Major,  looking 

round  in  despair  :  "  and ^"     But  no  one  waited 

for  the  conclusion. 

"A  knife?  Here's  a  knife."  And  Major 
Boldover  was  soon  in  the  middle  of  his  per- 
formance, after  a  personal  introduction  to  Lady 
Clara. 

"^ly  dear  Mrs.  Coh-ille,  give  me  the  pepper," 
said  Lady  Clara ;  and  she  proceeded  to  assist  the 
Major.  "  Oh !  look  at  the  wasps  :  I'm  sure  there's 
a  nest." 

"  AVhere's  the  gunpowder  ? "  said  the  Major, 
dropping  the  rest  of  the  cucumber. 

"  Gunpowder  :  what's  the  use  of  gunpowder  ?  " 

"  Blow  up  the  nest."  And  all  the  3'oung  ladies 
jumped  up. 


174        THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

"But  there  is  none,  unless  you  send  to  the 
barracks  at  Portbridge." 

"Then  let's  liave  some  boiling  water.  We'll 
soon  settle  them." 

"  Let  them  settle  themselves,"  said  Frank  Beau- 
clerc. 

Major  Boldover  looked  up.  "  Very  good :  who 
is  that  young  man,  Ashdale?" 

"  That's  a  cousin  of  mine.  How  do,  Beauclerc  ? 
By  Jove,  where  are  you  ?  I  didn't  know  you  were 
here."  Then  the  two  fraternised  as  cousins  should 
do,  and  they  sat  down  together  and  had  some 
mutual  confidences. 

"  So  you  are  promised  a  vacancy  in  ours. 
When's  the  exam.  ? "  inquired  Frederick  Ashdale, 
who  had  come  from  the  barracks. 

"Next  month." 

"All  right,  I  suppose?  Because,  you  know, 
they  want  a  fellow  to  know  something,  I  can  tell 
you.  Arithmetic  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I 
was  very  nearly  floored ;  and  they're  deuced  parti- 
cular about  the  spelling." 


A  pic-xic.  175 

Frank  tliouojlit  he  mio^lit  do. 

"  Lady  Clara,  is  the  champagne  iced  yet  ? " 

"  No,  Fred ;  all  the  ice  has  melted.     Where's 
the  salt?" 

"  Here's  the  salt,  my  lady,"  said  Bentley,  in  a 
very  modest  tone  of  voice.  He  was  not  half  the 
man  he  appeared  to  be  in  the  Fox  and  Hounds 
tap,  when  he  was  chaffing  the  Ljinmersfield 
butcher  about  the  trotting  pony.  My  lady  and 
her  friends  rather  awed  him. 

"  Lord  Gorsehampton,  may  I  trouble  you  to  cut 
that  cherry  tart  ?  Violet,  you  don't  eat  anything. 
Mrs.  Colville,  I  hope  Violet  hasn't  been  lunching 
with  you."  Lady  Clara  did  not  wait  for  an  answer, 
but  went  on  assiduously  taking  care  of  her  guests. 

"  Walker,  where's  the  clai'et?"  That  dignified 
functionary  condescended  to  look  surprised. 

"  Please,  my  lady,  I  rather  think — I'm  afraid — 
yes,  my  lady."  Here  Walker  buried  his  head  in  all 
parts  of  the  barouche-,  and  at  last  admitted  that 
it  had  been  forgotten. 

The  faces  were  blank  of  those  who  heard  the 


176        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

announcement :  but  young  Caradoc  allayed  all 
apprehension  by  ordering  his  groom  to  unpack  the 
hamper  behind  him.  Claret  was  produced  in 
abundance. 

"Evelyn?"  Miss  Ashdale,  a  pretty  girl  in 
golden  bands  and  a  white  lace  bonnet,  looked  up 
from  a  flirtation  with  Cornet  Rathbone.  "  When 
is  the  Goodwood  meethig  ?  Isn't  it  late  this  year  ?  " 

"Yes,  dear;  it's  a  movable  feast.  It  depends 
upon  Easter." 

"  Of  course  you  go  ?  " 

"  Yes,  dear.  Papa  has  a  horse  entered.  He  ran 
a  very  good  trial ;  only  we  don't  talk  about  it,  you 
know." 

Here  the  Barracks  at  Portbridge  laughed  so- 
lemnly, and  Major  Boldover  said  :  "  Certainly  not : 
quite  right.  Miss  Ashdale ;  keep  it  among  friends." 
This  was  the  Major's  first  introduction  to  that 
young  lady ;  but  people  soon  become  intimate  at  a 
pic-nic ;  at  least,  people  like  Major  Boldover. 

It  is  not  the  quantity  of  the  meat,  but  the 
cheerfulness  of  the  guests  which  make  a  feast,  says 


A  pic-xic.  177 

somebody  :  and  as  the  table  was  pretty  well  cleared, 
the  ladies  began  to  move.  The  wasps  had  peace- 
able possession  of  the  viands,  and  Captain  Ashdale 
had  began  to  fumble  with  his  cigar-case,  when 
Barrington  arrived.  He  was  a  tall,  good-looking 
man,  and  displayed  to  perfection  the  Newmarket 
hack  which  he  had  ridden  np  the  hill. 

"  Any  claret-cup  left?"  said  he,  after  the  first 
salutations.  ^'  There  always  is  a  little ;"  so  he  drank, 
and  then  spoke  to  Fred  Ashdale. 

"Isn't  there  a  man  of  the  name  of  Beauclerc 
here?  He's  reading  with  Colville,  and  I  want  to 
ask  him  to  come  to  om'  house." 

"  Yes,  here  he  is :  he's  a  cousin  of  mine.  Beau- 
clerc." Frank  was  close  by,  and  he  was  soon  in 
conversation  with  Captain  Barrington. 

"  Oh  !  Miss  Montgomery,  I'm  so  glad  you  came. 
Is  your  sister  here  ?" 

"  She  was  a  minute  ago.  They're  gone  towards 
the  cottage  to  order  tea  to  be  ready,  when  we  come 
back  from  the  lake." 

"  The  lake  ?     Have  you  got  the  boats  ?     That's 

VOL.  I.  K 


178 

capital.  Just  take  hold  of  my  liack,  Avill  you  ? " 
and  he  surrendered  his  horse  to  one  of  the  servants. 
*^  Oh,  Miss  Carloss,  I  hear  Madame  wouldn't  come  ; 
how  sorry  I  am  !  Lady  Clara  says  she  could  have 
given  you  a  seat  with  her,  if  she  had  but  known  in 
time." 

"  Thanks,  Captain  Barrington,  it's  very  kind  of 
Lady  Clara.     Mrs.  Colville  brought  me." 

"  And  is  Mr.  Colville  come  ?  It  is  not  much  in 
his  way." 

"  Yes,  he's  here  somewhere."  Colville  had  be- 
taken himself  to  a  cigar  in  a  more  retired  corner  of 
the  hill. 

Having  ascertained  that  tea  was  to  be  had  in  a 
couple  of  hours,  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  paired 
off,  as  best  they  might.  Violet  fell  to  the  lot  of 
Cornet  Caradoc,  and  Frank  Beauclerc  took  posses- 
sion of  Evelyn  Ashdale.  Barrington  took  charge 
of  old  Lady  Ashdale,  who  had  chaperoned  her 
daughter,  and  in  a  few  minutes  they  all  met  at  one 
of  the  numerous  points  of  view  to  be  found  on  St. 
Hilda's  Mount. 


A  PIC-NIO.  179 

The  old  ruined  monastery  at  the  foot  of  the  hill, 
near  the  water,  was  a  picturesque  object.  It  was  a 
complete  ruin,  but  retaining  internally  the  divisions 
of  kitchen,  refectory,  and  the  other  component 
parts  of  a  large  religious  house.  It  was  covered 
with  ivy,  and  the  gnarled  and  twisted  roots  helped 
to  support  the  crumbling  Avindows  and  delicate 
tracery  of  the  dormitories,  which  were  easily  dis- 
cernible from  the  interior.  Dick  Tinteman,  when 
studyuig  manfully  against  the  adverse  criticism 
and  invidious  hanging  of  the  Committee  of  the 
R.A.  Society,  has  rendered  its  beauties  familiar 
to  all  who  saw  that  famous  picture — and  who  did 
not  see  it  ? — known  as  "  The  Hand  of  Time."  I  am 
under  great  obligations  to  Dick,  and  so  is  the 
reader :  he  has  saved  us  both  a  great  deal  of 
trouble. 

Of  course  some  of  Lady  Clara's  party  had  never 
seen  it  before,  so  that  it  made  an  admirable  point 
after  the  splendid  view  from  the  top  of  the  hill  had 
been  duly  eulogised.  Xot  that  the  one  is  to  com- 
pare in  our  opinion  with  the  other.  A  fine  view, 
n2 


180    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

of  vast  extent,  is  a  grand  tiling.  It  appeals  to  the 
best  feelings.  The  works  of  nature  extending 
before  us  lift  us  from  the  earth,  and  we  bless  so 
lavish  a  hand  which  has  spread  a  feast  to  be  en- 
joyed by  all.  Dotted  here  and  there  are  the  works 
of  man  :  the  churches,  the  hamlets,  villages,  towns, 
for  which  the  infinite  framework  of  the  great 
Artist  was  designed.  And  we  don't  come  down 
again,  as  in  daily  life,  to  the  sordid  passions,  the 
hardships,  the  selfishness,  of  om-  fellow-creatures  : 
we  see  his  humble  trusts,  his  honest  labour,  his  in- 
dustry, his  heaven-born  powers,  and  we  thank  God 
that  He  has  made  us  as  near  Him  as  we  are.  A 
ruin !  a  reverend  history  of  a  time  gone  by,  good 
or  bad,  as  it  may  be. 

Nature  is  the  true  object  of  antiquarian  research. 
Its  hills,  its  glades,  rocks,  waterfalls,  the  teeming 
earth,  the  silently  flowing  streams,  these  put  to 
the  test  the  true  value  of  antiquity.  I  wonder 
how  many  thousands  of  years  they  took  to  form, 
how  many  they  have  endured  without  perceptible 
change,  and  how  many  they  will  yet  serve  to  the 


A  PIC-NIC.  181 

liappinessj  enjoyment,  and  necessities  of  the  limnan 
race. 

"  What  an  enormous  place  !  "  said  ^liss  Mont- 
gomery. "  How  charming  to  people  it,  dear  Lady 
Ashdale,  with  the  tenants  of '' 

"  Good  HeaA'ens,  my  dear,  \Yhat  a  famih'  I  "  re- 
plied the  old  lady.  I  think,  by  a  little  twinkle  of 
the  eye.  Lady  Ashdale  was  not  so  obtuse  as  she 
pretended  to  be  :  but  the  answer  made  Miss  Mont- 
gomery less  poetical  for  the  time. 

"  Who  built  this  place,  ^h\  Colville  ? "  inquired 
Lady  Ashdale. 

"  I  don't  know  who  built  it,  but  I  know  who 
despoiled  it.  Lady  Ashdale." 

"Do  you,  sh'?  then  be  good  enough  to  tell 
us." 

"  An  ancestor  of  Lord  Ashdale.  Is  not  St.  Hilda's 
vicarage  in  your  gift,  my  lady?" 

"  In  Lord  Ashdale's  it  is.  But  I  don't  see  what 
that  has  to  do  with  the  old  monasteiy." 

"  When  Lord  Ashdale's  ancestor  turned  out  the 
monks,  he  got  the  great  tithes,  and  we  got  a  poor- 


182 

law  to  supply  the  place  of  its"  charities.  This  was 
one  of  the  largest." 

"  And  therefore  did  tliQ  most  good,"  said  the  old 
lady,  stoutly. 

"  According  to  yoiu'  ancestor's  reading,  it  did 
the  most  harm." 

''  It  kept  the  poor  in  bread  and  cheese,  Mr.  Col- 
ville." 

"And  encom-aged  them  to  beg  for  it,  my  lady  : 
but  you  ought  not  to  defend  the  system." 

While  this  discussion  had  been  going  on,  the 
couples  had  separated,  or  were  improving  the  occa- 
sion, each  according  to  taste,  capacity,  or  inclina- 
tion ;  which  are  different  in  different  men. 

"  Rum  old  fellows,  those  monks,  Miss  Ashdale," 
said  Major  Boldover. 

"  Scarcely  the  view  I  should  take  of  them," 
paid  the  young  lady,  with  a  rather  satirical  smile. 
]Miss  Ashdale  had  been  raised  in  Belgravia,  and 
admired  Father  Eustace,  who  approached  that 
condition  of  life  as  far  as  his  judicious  diocesan 
would  allow. 


A  PIC-NIC.  183 

"  I  say,  Barrington,  this  must  have  been  the 
stable,"  said  Caradoc,  pointing  to  some  iron  rings 
which  had  been  driven  into  the  wall. 

'^  Oh !  those  fellows  never  hunted,  you  may 
depend  upon  it." 

"  Why  not  ?  The  whole  place  belonged  to  them : 
and  there  were  plenty  of  deer." 

"  Ask  ^liss  Carloss,"  says  Captain  Barrington  ; 
"  she  knows  a  great  deal  better  than  I  do." 

"  Indeed,  I  don't  know  anything :  I  always  ask 
Madame.  Here's  ^Ir.  Beauclerc  ;  perhaps  he 
knows."  And  they  repeated  the  inquiiy :  a 
harmless  but  foolish  one.  Barrington  joined  her : 
Caradoc  was  puzzled,  and  began  to  consider  the 
question  rather  seriously. 

"  Charming  style ! "  said  a  young  gentleman,  with 
■unexceptionable  boots  and  a  lisp,  from  the  bar- 
racks, pointing  to  a  half-ruined  window.  "  Wliat 
a  pity  Cromwell  and  those  sort  of  fellows  destroyed 
eveiything.  Lady  Emily." 

Lady  Emily,  being  only  lately  out  of  the  school- 
room, asked,  "Which  Cromwell?" 


184        THE  EEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AST)  SON. 

"  Alia  !  that's  good  :  now  you  know  you're 
chaffing,  Lady  Emily."  By  this  time,  as  the 
ruins  covered  some  acres,  the  company  did  the 
same.  The  young  ones  seeming  to  discover  much 
beautiful  tracery  in  out-of-the-way  corners,  cool 
spots  in  retired  nooks,  and  to  be  enthusiastically 
devoted  to  the  examination  of  botanical  specimens 
on  the  walls.  Somebody,  however,  mentioned  the 
boats,  and  they  began  to  stroll  that  way. 


185 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE  BOATING  PAETY. 

She  floats  upon  the  river — of  his  thought?. 

Longfellow. 

At  that  moment  it  became  apparent  that  Lady 
Clara  and  her  company  were  not  quite  alone  in  the 
rnins.  A  wayworn-looking  figure,  clad  in  a  pair 
of  soldier's  trousers  and  a  frock-coat,  and  bearing 
some  marks  of  military  character  about  him, 
seemed  to  come  from  no  one  knew  where.  He 
had  been  asleep  in  the  chapel,  and  now,  seeing  so 
many  good-looking  people  around  him,  bethought 
himself  of  the  probability  of  taxing  their  liberality. 


186        THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHEK  AND  SON. 

There  was  sometliing  about  the  man  that  did  not 
look  like  ordinary  pauperism.  He  blushed  as  he 
touched  his  hat :  and  nothing  but  a  sad  and  peti- 
tioning expression  of  the  face  demanded  an  alms. 
But  who  was  to  stop  at  a  moment  like  this  ?  "  An 
old  soldier,  Miss  Ashdale ;  I'm  too  old  a  soldier 
for  that,"  said  Colonel  Twigg.  "  Cool  sort  of 
hand  that,"  said  the  Irish  Major,  who  had  just 
come  from  a  country  where  poverty  assumes  a 
more  commanding  aspect,  and  demands  your 
purse  at  the  end  of  a  shillelagh.  "  How's  a  fellow 
in  lemon-coloured  kids  to  get  at  a  sixpence,  I 
should  like  to  know ;  at  least  not  if  they  fit  as  they 
should.  Besides,  this  sort  of  thing  is  quite  a  tax. 
I  don't  think  the  keepers  ought  to  allow  these  men 
about."  •  Yes  !  it  is  a  tax  indeed  that  Heaven  lays 
upon  all  men,  and  good  citizens  of  that  country 
will  not  refuse  to  pay  it. 

Barrington  threw  him  sixpence,  and  then  looked 
very  much  ashamed  of  himself,  and  followed  Lady 
Clara  towards  the  water.  Violet  Carloss  was  not 
comfortable  with   her   companion ;    and   as   they 


THE  BOATIXG  PAKTY.  187 

went  on  talking  and  laugbingj  slie  called  Frank 
Beauclerc  to  lier  side. 

"Frank,  do  me  a  favonr.  Turn  back  to  tlie 
ruin.  I  have  left  sometking  behind  that  I  want  to 
look  at  ao;ain." 

"  Certainly.     What's  that  ?  " 

"  It's  that  old  soldier :  he  said  he  had  been  in 
India." 

"Did  he?  I  didn't  hear  him."  And  Frank 
Beauclerc  seemed  as  indifferent  as  the  rest  to  the 
fact,  excepting  that  it  belonged  to  Violet. 

"  Yes  !  he  did.  I  heard  him  talking  about  all 
sorts  of  ^  bads.'  You  know  all  the  Indian  names 
in  the  geography  end  in  '  bad.'  There's  Hydrabad, 
and  Allahabad,  and  I  don't  know  how  man}^  I 
want  just  to  give  him  a  shilling,  and  I  daren't  do  it 
with  all  those  people — so  don't  you  tell." 

"  Not  I,  Violet."  Frank  seemed  to  have  fallen 
into  the  Christian  name  very  well,  for  a  few  weeks' 
practice  only.  "Not  I:  but  if  you  want  to  re- 
lieve all  the  Indian  impostors  of  the  day,  you 
should  have  a  tent  on  the  steps  of  the  Oriental 


188        THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

in  Ilanover-square.  There  a  real  Sepoy  sweeps 
the  crossing,  and  a  high-class  Brahmin  sells  tame 
adders  at  the  door." 

Violet  Carloss  had  no  objection  to  listen  to  her 
conductor,  if  he  only  allowed  her  to  do  as  she 
liked;  and  as  she  did  that,  without  any  longer 
conference  than  to  know  that  the  object  of  her 
charity  had  been  discharged  from  the  Indian 
army,  and  was  making  his  way  to  Portbridge  (so 
he  said,  at  least,  and  an  old  soldier's  word  is  as 
good  as  his  bond ;  in  this  case  quite  as  good),  she 
did  not  detain  him  long.  "  Now,  Violet,  suppose 
we  go  down  to  the  boat." 

"Violet,"  said  the  old  soldier  to  himself.  "I 
knew  a  Violet  once,  a  little  Violet.  It  has  found 
a  safer  shelter  and  a  better  garden  than  any  on 
earth."  Then  he  bethought  him  of  following  to 
the  lake.  Mayhap  he  might  be  of  service,  bless 
her  sweet  face,  and  earn  another  shilling  or 
two,  too. 

I  cannot  say  that  Violet  had  any  of  those  ex- 
traordinary presentiments  of  danger  so  common  in 


THE  BOATIXG  PAKTT.  189 

unreal  life  when  she  went  clown  to  the  water.  It 
wonld  be  ^^Tong  to  doubt  those  who  assert  that 
they  are  common.  Still,  under  the  ch'cumstances, 
why  do  they  go  ?  Certainly  Violet  knew  nothing 
about  what  was  to  happen,  or  she  woidd  not  have 
gone. 

There  were  two  boats  on  the  lake.  One  was  a 
good  family  tub :  useful  for  elderly  ladies  or 
timid  young  ones,  and  fisliiug  parties.  The  other 
was  an  outrigger,  formerly  the  property  of  the 
Honom'able  Fred  Ashdale,  when  he  indulged  in 
condition  and  bhsters.  He  had  not  done  so  of 
late  years  ;  but  the  boat  remained,  a  temptation  to 
the  miwary,  a  delusion  to  the  confident. 

The  hig-  boat  was  soon  manned  :  Colonel  Twicr^r 
was  assiduous  in  handing  in  the  ladies  and  in 
takincr  his  own  seat  bv  the  side  of  Lady  Clara 
BaiTington.  Colville's  pupils  were  about  to  render 
themselves  useful  as  well  as  ornamental.  Some 
had  escaped  in  quest  of  more  delightful  scenery, 
under  an  enra^ement  to  meet  at  the  cottage  at 
eight  o'clock.     Two  or   three   young   ladies   still 


190        THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATIIEU  AND  SON. 

remained  on  the  margin  of  tlie  lake,  and  the 
cavalieri  serventi  were  offering  their  services  to 
give  them,  one  at  a  time,  a  little  row.  "^lind 
and  sit  quietly,"  said  Fred  Ashdale,  "  and  there's 
no  danger."  "  The  middle  of  the  boat,  Mss 
Montgomery :  don't  step  on  one  side,  or  you'll  go 
through." 

"  I  don't  like  it  at  all,"  said  that  young  lady, 
looking  at  her  crinoline,  which  was  undoubtedly 
beyond  the  capacity  of  a  cranky  outrigger. 

"Let's  have  a  turn  alone  first;"  and  Frank 
Beauclerc  took  off  his  coat  and  seated  himself 
anudships,  dropping  his  skulls  lightly  into  the 
water,  after  laying  the  boat's  head  from  the  shore. 

After  taking  a  sweep  or  two  across  the  water, 
Frank  returned  to  the  shore.  Ladies  are  prover- 
bially impatient,  and  his  apparent  confidence  in 
his  own  abilities  furnished  the  same  virtue  in  the 
others.  Miss  Montgomery  thought  it  would  do. 
Violet  had  no  doubts,  and  Evelyn  Ashdale  had 
been  in  it  hundreds  of  times :  but  now  she  was 
heavier,  she  knew.    "  Not  much,"  says  her  brother. 


THE  BOATING  PARTY.  191 

"  Then  you  skull  me,  Fred."  ^^  Nonsense ;  Beau- 
clerc  skulls  better  than  I  do."  The  young  lady 
thought  she  might  venture,  if  ^ir.  Beauclerc  was 
quite  certain  it  wouldn't  capsize.  ^Ii\  Beauclerc 
was  certain  :  at  least,  it  depended  on  the  lady.  In 
another  minute  Miss  Ashdale  was  half  across  the 
water,  and  after  ten  minutes  or  a  quarter  of  an 
hour  she  returned  to  shore,  safe  and  sound.  The 
getting  out  was  not  so  easy,  but  was  accomplished 
without  even  a  wet  footo 

"  Do  you  think  I  can  go.  Captain  Ashdale  ?  " 
Violet  was  not  courageous :  she  hated  bulls  and 
thunderstorms ;  but  that's  excusable.  IMust  we 
add  that  she  preferred  a  carriage  to  riding, 
excepting  on  a  steady  cob-like  animal  which  was 
more  likely  to  tumble  down  than  anything  else  in 
the  world?  But  Violet  had  an  idea  that  she 
should  like  to  have  a  turn  on  the  lake,  and  cer- 
tainly quite  as  well  with  Frank  Beauclerc  as  with 
any  one  else.  So  she  got  in,  not  so  cleverly  as 
Evelyn  Ashdale ;  she  was  less  of  a  sailor,  or  any- 
thing else,  than  tliat  young  lady,  being  yomiger. 


10:?        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

and  entirely  under  petticoat  government :  but  she 
got  in,  after  a  little  scream  or  two,  and  sat  down. 
"  Only  sit  still,  Violet,"  said  Frank  Beauclerc. 

The  weather  had  changed  a  little.  The  day 
had  been  more  than  hot — sultry :  and  now  there 
was  a  little  wind  rising.  Lord  Portarlington 
might  have  predicted  a  change  within  three  days 
without  risk  of  his  reputation.  Away  went 
the  wdierry,  and  in  two  or  three  minutes 
Violet  was  reassured.  They  hailed  the  other 
boat,  pulled  alongside,  changed  greetings,  but 
were  prudent  enough  not  to  shake  hands.  The 
large  party  was  a  merry  one  :  there  was  a  charm- 
ing little  song  sweetly  enough  sung  by  Mrs. 
Colville ;  Lady  Clara  never  did  such  a  thing 
without  a  piano.  Colonel  Twigg  broke  down  in 
^^  Molly  Carew^,"  but  Major  Boldover  came  to 
tlie  rescue  with  the  "Low-backed  Car;"  so  they 
pulled  one  way  supremely  happy,  and  Frank 
pulled  the   other,   towards   a   pi'etty   waterfall   at 

the  lower  end  of  the  lake,  equally  so. 

The  voyage  had  been  accomplished  in  safety. 


THE  BOATING  PAETT.  193 

and  they  started  to  return.  Frank  had  been  on 
the  water  often  enough  to  know  that  an  inland 
lake  is  a  treacherous  sea,  with  any  wind  on.  The 
too  cautious  mariner  hugs  the  shore :  but  in  this 
case  his  tactics  were  right.  He  pulled  close 
under  the  trees  which  here  clothed  the  water's 
edge.  At  one  point  he  v/ould  have  to  leave  this 
shelter  and  make  for  the  landing-place  across  an 
open  arm  of  the  lake.  It  was  but  a  couple  of 
hundred  yards  more,  and  the  comers  were  hailed 
with  shouts  of  "Tea  and  the  cottage."  As  he 
came  from  the  shelter  of  the  wooded  bank,  a 
sharp  and  sudden  squall  caught  Violet's  parasol : 
she  always  acted  upon  natui-al  impulse,  and  that 
impulse  was  to  save  it.  In  one  moment  she  was 
in  the  water,  and,  catching  at  the  boat  to  save 
herself,  the  cranky  outrigger  careened  over,  filled, 
and  went  down. 

Poor  child  !  The  scream  that  was  borne  to  the 
shore  reached  the  ears  of  those  who  were  already 
ascending  the  hill,  while  Frank,  evading  her 
attempts  to  get   hold   of  him,   caught  her  in  a 

VOL.  I.  0 


194    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

powerful  gi'asp,  and  began  swimming  witli  his 
disengaged  hand.  As  fast  as  we  write,  a  boat  was 
being  unchained  from  her  moorings  :  at  least  it 
seemed  so  to  him. 

"Still,  Violet,  still,  for  the  love  of  Heaven! 
The  boat's  coming !  Violet,  Violet,  for  God's 
sake  quiet,  and  we  are  safe  ! "  But  Violet  strug- 
gled with  that  fear  that  is  unequalled  in  tliis 
world ;  the  fear  of  death  to  the  strong,  the  happy, 
the  young,  the  prosperous.  But  the  boat  was  not 
coming,  and  the  shouts  of  "Break  the  chain," 
"Here's  the  padlock,"  "Thekej^,  the  key— who 
has  the  key  ?  "  showed  that  all  was  not  right.  At 
last  she  fainted  ;  and  then  Frank  felt  his  task 
lighter;  but  he  prayed  mentally  for  help,  as  he 
made  but  little  way  with  his  burthen. 

At  that  moment  a  dark  form,  without  coat  or 
hat,  was  seen  to  emerge  from  the  shore,  at  the 
nearest  point,  and  Avith  powerful  strokes  to  swim 
towards  the  exhausted  pair.  Fresh  and  unem- 
barrassed, it  took  him  but  a  minute  or  two  to 
reach  them,  just  as  Frank  was  beginning  to  feel 


THE  BOATING  PARTY.  195 

his  strength  go.  "  Hold  on,  sir,  one  more  stroke 
or  two,  while  I  get  the  other  side  of  her/'  At 
that  moment  she  shpped  from  Frank's  gi-asp  as 
the  new  comer  caught  her  beneath  the  arm,  and 
raised  her  face  again  above  the  surface.  Fa- 
vom-ed  by  the  relief,  and  cheered  by  the  manifest 
capabUity  of  his  friend,  Frank  made  a  few  more 
efforts,  and,  between  them,  they  carried  the  inani- 
mate form  of  poor  Violet  Carloss  to  the  bank. 


02 


196 


CHAPTER  XI. 

violet's  teustees. 

Avarice  is  a  weed  that  will  grow  in  a  barren  soil. 

Great  was  the  consternation  among  the 
dowagers,  and  the  sympathy  among  the  young : 
but  neither  of  them  would  have  brought  back  life 
to  those  pallid  cheeks  but  for  other  remedies. 
An  old  woman,  who  had  no  sympathy,  had  a 
flannel  petticoat,  hot  as  the  day  had  been ;  and 
the  tea-kettle  and  blankets  supplied  other  revivers. 
The  old  soldier  had  nobly  earned  the  reward 
which  was  pressed  upon  him,  and  before  he  went 
away  only  asked  the  name  of  the  lady  and  gen- 


197 

tleman  he  had  helped  to  rescue.  "  Miss  Carloss ! 
He  knew  the  family  in  India :  and  Mr.  Beanclerc 
too  :  he'd  heard  of  him  before  :"  and  Frank  gave 
him  his  address,  and  told  him  the  Colonel  would 
be  glad  to  see  him  often,  when  he  came  home, 
which  he  expected  him  to  do  some  day,  this  year 
or  next. 

"We  owe  you  a  couple  of  lives,  my  good 
fellow  :  I  couldn't  have  held  on  much  longer, 
and  the  boat  never  could  have  reached  us  in 
time." 

"  Your  honour',  a  big  dog  would  a  done  it 
better.  Maybe  I'll  take  cold  :  so  I'll  wish  you 
good  evening,  and  the  young  lady  too.  I'll  get 
to  Portbridge  very  well  with  the  drop  of  drink 
the  gentlemen  has  given  me." 

So  while  they  all  ran  backwards  and  forwards 
in  the  cottage  to  wait  upon  Violet,  the  principal 
actor  disappeared  from  the  scene.  Modesty  gives 
great  strength  and  beauty  even  to  the  absent,  whilst 
the  vain  we  must  have  ever  with  us  to  be  ad- 
mired.     Bacon   says  that  it  is  as  natm-al  to  die 


198    THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATnEE  AND  SOX. 

as  to  be  born :  very  likely  ;  and  a  necessity 
equally  forced  upon  us.  It  is  strange  the  most 
important  personage  lias  the  least  to  say  in 
either  matter. 

Who  that  had  seen  Violet  Carloss  suspected 
how  near  that  Ijriglit,  joyous,  lifelike  spirit  was 
to  the  cheerless  grave.  For  days  she  lay  be- 
tween life  and  death  at  the  cottao:e  of  Madame 
Kosenfels.  "  The  shock  to  her  system  had  been 
great,"  said  our  village  Esculapius,  with  a  pro- 
fundity which  alarmed  us  all.  We  were  none  of 
us  good  enough  ourselves  to  endorse  the  pious  sen- 
timent of  that  very  worthy,  but  rather  Calvinistic, 
Mrs.  Betel  Crusher  to  her  friend  Mrs.  Manning. 
"  Would  Providence  be  pleased  to  take  her 
before  she  became  the  miserable  thing  that  she 
must  be,  now  while  she  was  comparatively  inno- 
cent ?  "  We  did  not  think  with  these  two  ladies 
upon  that  occasion,  but  prayed  fervently  that 
He  would  restore  her  to  us.  But  then  we  had 
not  three  daughters  like  Mrs.  Crusher,  who 
sought    husbands    from   amono;st   the   eligible   of 


violet's  teustees.  199 

Lymmersfield.  Doubtless  there  were  plenty  there 
who  knew  that  nothing  so  natural,  and  so  ine"v^- 
table,  as  death  could  be  designed  as  an  evil ;  but 
we  had  our  own  selfish  wishes  upon  the  subject, 
and  preferred  that  it  should  come  at  a  natural 
time.  Death  in  one  so  young,  so  healthful,  so 
beautiful,  we  regarded  as  neither  natui'al  nor  ine- 
vitable, but  as  an  exceptional  dispensation  of 
Providence  ;  and  we  prayed  accordingly.  Mes- 
dames  Crusher  and  Manning  had  taken  a  wrong 
view  of  the  case  this  time,  and  in  the  course  of 
a  week  or  ten  days  Yiolet  Carloss  was  herself 
again. 

Excepting  in  the  way  of  gratitude,  poui'ed  out 
in  torrents  of  words,  which  seemed  to  be  carried 
dovm  on  the  stream  of  her  tears,  she  did  not  love 
to  talk  about  her  accident.  She  shut  her  eyes 
when  it  was  casually  mentioned,  and  most  of  her 
neighbom's  got  to  respect  her  fears.  So  in  a  few 
months  it  came  to  be  forgotten.  "Frank,"  she 
said,  the  day  before  he  astonished  Chelsea  Hos- 
pital and  its  wooden-legged  pensioners   with  his 


200        THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

learning,  "  I  sliall  never  forget  it,  nor  to  thank 
you  for  it.  Two  days  after,  when  they  thought  I 
might  die,  and  told  me  how  much  better  and 
happier  I  should  be  out  of  this  world,  I  felt  more 
than  ever  grateful  to  you  for  your  brave  struggles 
for  me.  Ah  !  if  ever  I  see  our  poor  soldier  again, 
what  shall  I  do  for  him  ?  and  you  can't  find  his 
address.  Ah  !  a  life  at  sixteen  is  a  great  debt 
to  owe :  but  I'm  glad  I  have  it,  and  that  I  owe 
it  to  you." 

^'  But  you  are  less  my  debtor  than  you  think, 
Violet.  Your  brother  never  told  you  that  he  had 
done  the  same  for  me  at  Grammerton  :"  and  then 
he  tried  to  relieve  her  sense  of  obligation  by  an 
account  of  the  battle  of  the  punts  in  his  school- 
boy days. 

"  Never  mind,  Frank,  it  makes  no  difference 
who  saved  your  life  :  you  saved  mine,  and  I 
never  knew  how  dear  it  was  to  me  till  that 
dreadful  moment." 

Here  Violet  tried  to  assume  her  usually  defiant 
tone,  but  she  was  unsuccessful.    She  put  her  hands 


violet's  teustees.  201 

up  to  shut  out  the  painful  vision,  and  the  tears 
tiickled  slowly  through  her  fingers.  Frank  got  up 
from  his  seat,  and,  as  she  held  out  a  hand  to  him 
to  say  good-bye,  he  stooped  down  and  kissed  her 
forehead.  He  did  not  wait  to  see  its  effect,  but 
walked  quickly  out  of  the  room. 

Then  came  the  business  of  the  examination. 

Bentley,  and  Standish,  and  Frank  Beauclerc 
represented  the  strength  of  the  Lymmersfield 
stable.  They  sat  down  outside  the  hall  at  Chel- 
sea to  compare  notes  imder  the  long  porticos. 
"  Let's  look  at  your  Euclid  paper,  Standish  :"  and 
that  youth  produced  a  rough  draught  of  what  he 
had  sent  up  to  ]\Ir.  Heavyside.  He  had  proved 
beyond  all  question  than  two  sides  of  a  triangle 
were  greater  than  the  thhxl,  but  he  had  also  given 
his  opinion  at  the  end  of  the  proof  that  "that 
was  absurd."  Professor  Heavyside  not  agreeing 
with  that  view,  nor  indeed  with  some  others,  as 
to  the  value  of  certain  rectangles  and  squares,  or 
the  mode  of  competing  heights  and  distances 
adopted  by  this  gentleman,  forgot  to  put  his  name 


202    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHEE  AND  SON. 

do^ni  in  the  list  -svhicli  was  afterwards  presented 
to  the  British  public  through  the  valuable  columns  . 
of  the  Times  newspaper.  As  Bentley  had  confi- 
dently stated  that  AVilliam  Ruf  us  was  Charles  the 
First's  nephew,  and  that  he  had  lost  the  battle  of 
Marston  IMoor  by  his  rashness,  it  is  not  wonderful 
that  his  knowledge  of  English  histoiy  was  called 
in  question  by  Professor  Chepmell.  He  had 
^\Titten,  it  is  true,  an  elaborate  essay  on  Eoman 
Law  and  Agrarian  Outrage,  which  ought  to  have 
given  him  the  command  of  a  squackon  at  least, 
but  the  English  failure  was  too  palpable,  besides 
which  he  wrote  ^'  Triggernometry"  as  if  it  had 
something  to  do  with  sport. 

Frank  sat  on  the  benches  outside,  too,  and  com- 
pared notes  with  the  rest.  He  was  not  strong  in 
French,  which  had  a  decidedly  Grammertonian 
twang.  The  Welsh  gentleman  had  been  mani- 
festly employed. 

"  What  did  you  put  for  these  derivations,  Beau- 
clerc?" 

"  Well,  they  rather  floored  me,"  said  Frank,  "  to 
tell  you  the  truth." 


violet's  trustees.  203 

"  So  they  did  me,"  said  Standish,  evidently  as- 
tonished that  he  should  have  been  floored  by  any- 
thing, after  such  a  careful  preparation  from  the 
modern  school.  "  ^Yliat  did  you  say  '  grouse' 
was  derived  from  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  said  Beauclerc  ;  '^  you  didn't 
think  they  meant  ypvs  (grus),  because  that's  a 
crane;  and  that's  not  much  like  a  grouse,  you 
know.     What  did  you  put  for  that  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  was  regularly  floored,  too ;  would  you 
believe  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  if  you  say  so." 

Standish  was  not  good  at  a  joke,  so  he  continued, 
"  But  the  fellow  next  to  me  was  a  reo-ular  clever 

o 

fellow  :  did  everything,  and  no  mistake.  And,  do 
you  know,  he  shoved  his  paper  over  to  me  just  at 
that  very  question,  and  pointed  to  that  word ;  and 
then  I  saw  '  grouse,'  a  ^loorish  word ;  so  I  copied 
it,  of  course." 

Here  Frank  went  into  a  fit  of  laughter,  and 
even  Bentley,  not  remarkable  for  a  sense  of  hu- 
mour, followed  his  example.     "And  I  hope  you 


204        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

thanked  your  neighbour   for   his  valuable  assist- 
ance?" 

"  Yes,  I  did  afterwards,  and  he  seemed  to  be 
rather  annoyed." 

"Wliy,  what  did  he  say?" 

"  Well,  he  wasn't  very  polite.  He  said,  ^  What  a 
confounded  idiot  you  must  be ;  we  shall  both  be 
shut  out  for  copying.     It's  only  a  joke.' " 

And  so  out  of  the  three  Colville  had  two  of  them 
back  again;  and  their  fathers  hoped  they  worked 
hard,  and  that  INIr.  Colville  Avould  keep  their  noses 
to  the  grindstone.  At  the  same  time,  these  judi- 
cious parents  sent  them  back  with  a  very  liberal 
supply  of  money,  and  a  very  moderate  supply  of 
advice ;  the  main  article  of  the  latter  being  not  to 
smoke  too  much.  They  also  regretted  that  their 
boys  had  not  read  much  during  the  vacation,  as 
they  had  been  obliged  to  give  them  some  in- 
dulgence in  Scotland  after  their  hard  work  in  the 
previous  half-year. 

One  morning  not  long  after  these  events  (it  Avas 
in  October),  Madame  Rosenfels  and  the  Rev. 
Harry  Colville  sat  opposite  to  one  another  in  the 


205 

charming  little  room  which  Madame  devoted  to 
her  own  studies  in  "The  Cottage,"  as  it  was 
called,  at  Lymmersfield.  She  looked  much  as 
usual ;  earnest,  however,  and  clever,  and  remark- 
ably well.  There  was  a  great  deal  of  in- 
tellect in  her  face,  but  of  not  a  very  high  ^cha- 
racter. It  was  not  the  intelHgence  of  refinement 
or  cultivation.  She  was  not  above  small  fascina- 
tions, to  which  truly  great  or  good  women  rarely 
condescend.  She  twisted  her  rings,  which  were 
numerous  and  handsome,  and  the  clear  veins 
showed  in  a  long  and  somewhat  nervous  hand, 
which  was  of  a  sufficiently  good  colour.  Her  foot 
hien  cJiausse  was  very  busy,  and  hung  out  its  pe- 
culiar lure.  Those  well-shod  women  have  it  some- 
times hien  forchu.  Altogether  there  was  so  much 
to  fascinate  that  a  good  physiognomist  would  have 
been  on  his  guard.  Harry  CoMUe  was  not  versed 
in  the  wiles  of  the  female  boa  constrictor. 

He  was  a  very  different  person  from  his  hostess. 
He  was  plain  enough.  Some  people  wondered 
how  Bessie  Frampton  could  have  married  so  plain 
a  person,  "and  without  a  shilling  too,  my  dear." 


206        THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHEE  AND  SON. 

Bessie  Frampton  liked  a  companion,  not  a  dummy ; 
hence  it  came  that  she  pleased  herself  in  the  matter. 
Of  dummies,  young  ladies,  one  is  quite  as  good  as 
another,  so  take  the  one  with  the  most  gilt  on  it. 
Harry  Colville,  however,  had  his  ornamental  side, 
if  you  turned  him  round.  Pie  was  a  perfect  gen- 
tleman, always  well  dressed,  cleanly  and  fresh- 
looking,  and  delighting  in  those  inestimable  ad- 
vantages, hands  and  feet.  If  you  have  them  not, 
don't  try  to  make  them  ;  that  always  fails.  Adopt 
the  present  "  high-low"  or  "  shooting-boot"  fashion, 
and  go  about  without  gloves.  Where  there  is  no 
pretension,  much  will  not  be  expected.  Colville 
was  a  clever  man,  too  ;  acute,  and  with  an  intellect 
of  a  much  higher  order  than  that  of  ^ladame.  He 
never  descended  to  cunning.  He  had  plenty  of 
tact,  too,  and  a  manner  acquu'ed  in  the  best 
society,  from  which  his  professional  duties  only  de- 
barred him  during  nine  months  of  the  year.  There 
was  one  thing,  however,  of  which  he  knew  nothing ; 
that  universal  acquaintance  with  affairs,  one's  own 
or  other   people's,  which   goes   by  the   name   of 


violet's  trustees.  207 

"business."  He  was  no  matcli  for  Madame  in 
this  matter. 

"  Then,  if  I  understand  you  rightly,  you 
thmk  the  money  would  be  more  profitably  in- 
vested in  this  building  land  than  it  is  now; 
and  that  it  would  add  to  Violet's  comfort  and  your 
own." 

"  Oh !  my  dear  ]Mi'.  Cohille,"  and  she  laid  that 
very  clever-looking  but  tenacious  hand  upon  his 
arm  (I  don't  like  it  myself,  I  confess,  when  I  in- 
tend to  oppose  a  lady's  proposition),  my  dear  Mr. 
Cohdlle,  for  myself  I  have  enough,  and  am  well 
satisfied ;  but  for  Violet,  both  now  and  hereafter  it 
would  be  a  great  advantage  to  have  six  or  seven 
per  cent,  instead  of  three,  which  she  is  getting 
now."  She  forgot  to  say  anything  of  the  security 
of  the  Funds  ;  Colville  knew  as  much  about  it  as 
he  did  about  the  exchange  between  Cairo  and 
London.  Investing  money  had  never  been  one  of 
his  amusements. 

"  Certainly,  there  can  be  no  doubt  about  it, 
Madame.     It's   very   thoughtful  of  you;    and  I 


208        THE  BEAUCLEKCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

suppose  you  have  seen  Shearham  about  it ,  for  you 
know  it's  not  mucli  in  my  way.  Perhaps  you 
don't  mind  explaining  which  land  it  is  you  think 
of  buying  ?  " 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Colville,  that  the  value  of 
property  has  increased  very  much  here." 

"  I  believe  so ;"  and  Colville  then  thought  about 
an  article  he  was  writing  for  the  Temple  Bar. 

"  And  is  still  increasing/'  added  the  lady  with 
some  pertinacity. 

"  No  doubt  of  it.  I  should  think  Lymmers- 
field,  from  what  I  hear,  is  likely  to  be  overun  with 
bricks  and  mortar." 

"  And  that  increases  the  value  of  property  so 
much,"  said  ]\fadame  again. 

"  It  won't  increase  the  value  of  mine,  I'm 
afraid." 

"  Well,  perhaps  not,  if  you  don't  wish  to  sell. 
But  I  hope  you  have  no  idea  of  leaving  Lym- 
mersfield.  If  you  have,  it  will.  You  know  the 
Squire  has  sold  the  whole  of  the  property  except- 
ing the  Hall  and  the  Park,  which  is  to  go  when 
the  Barringtons'  lease  is  out." 


violet's  trustees.  209 

"  I've  heard  so ;  and  I'm  sony  for  it.  So  pretty 
a  place  near  London  ought  not  to  be  cut  to  pieces. 
It's  the  only  real  country  suburb  left." 

"  Then  I  am  afraid  you  won't  like  my  project.  I 
should  like  to  invest  for  Violet  in  some  of  that 
land  for  building  purposes.  There  could  be  no 
risk,  and  the  advantage  to  dear  Violet  would  be 
very   great.     But   of  course,   if   you   don't   wish 

it "      Madame  put   on  an  injm'ed  face,  and 

played  with  her  wedding-ring ;  and  was  Colvdlle 
the  man  to  raise  imaginary  objections  ?  "  She'll 
really  be  a  rich  person  in  ten  years'  time,  if  she 
sells  out  a  few  hundreds  now." 

"  And  what  you  want  is  my  consent,  I  presume  ?  " 
rejoined  he,  hesitatingly. 

"  Well,  I — that  is — Major  Carloss's  wishes  were 
that  you  should  be  always  consulted,  and,  you 
know,  I  wouldn't  act  Avithout  doing  what  I  be- 
lieved to  be  right :  so  that  I  am  glad  to  think  you 
do  not  disapprove."     An  assumption." 

"  No,  oh,  no !  of  course  not :  anything  that  is 
desu'able    for  Violet,   why — naturally — only   see 
VOL.  I.  P 


210 

Shearham,  and  get  the  tiling  put  straight.  So 
you  really  think  that  Lymmersfield  property  is 
likely  to  increase  in  value,  Madame  ?  " 

"  I'm  very  glad  I've  a  long  lease  of  the  cottage.'* 

"  And  I'm  very  glad  I  bought  my  place  when 

I  had  the  opportunity.     And  where  are  you  going 

this   autumn  ? "  he   was   glad   to   escape   f  mother 

money  matters. 

"  Well !  I  shall  be  off  to  Brighton,"  said  Ma- 
dame, whose  spirits  had  w^onderfully  recovered 
themselves  at  the  success  of  her  negotiation.  "  The 
leaves  are  all  about,  and  this  place  is  a  little  damp 
at  the  fall  of  the  year.  You  may  judge  of  the  in- 
crease of  property  here :  I've  let  my  cottage  for 
the  winter — mind,  the  winter — for  six  guineas  a 
week."  Confirmation  strong,  thought  he:  so  he 
said: 

"  Have  you  really  ?     And  when  do  you  go  ?  " 
"  Next  week — but  we  shall  come  to  say  good- 
by — and  I  hope  Mrs.  Colville  or  Alice  may  be  per- 
suaded to  come  and  stay  with  us,  while  you  go  for 
your  six  weeks'  hunting  to  Lord  Wodecraft's." 


violet's  teustees.  211 

"  That's  very  kind  of  you  indeed,  ]\Iadame.  I 
know  tliey  wouki  like  it  very  muck:  but  your 
friend,  the  Griffin,  has  been  a  great  absentee  lately. 
I've  nobody  to  cut  tlie  newspaper  or  butter  my 
toast  when  ske's  away.  I  tkougkt  of  borrowing 
Violet." 

"  I  kope  ]Mr.  Beauclerc  is  well  ?  "  Madame  now 
was  anxious  to  ckange  tke  subject. 

"  Very,  wken  I  keard.  He  expects  kis  f atker  in 
England  next  year.  My  love  to  Violet,  Madame.'* 
And  Colville  took  leave,  witk  kis  mind  wondering 
wkat  lie  skould  do  witk  tke  New  Zealanders,  wkom 
ke  was  endeavom'ing  to  put  straigkt  before  tke 
world  in  tke  pages  of  Temple  Bar. 

Wkat  Madame  Eosenfels  kad  said  of  Lymmers- 
lield  was  true.  It  was  being  skamefuUy  built 
over,  and  tke  value  of  property  was  increasing 
proportionately  as  its  beauty  decreased.  Her  pre- 
sent object  was  to  do  as  ske  kad  done  before:  to 
buy  witk  Violet's  money,  and  sell  as  tke  market 
got  better,  putting  tke  difference  into  ker  own 
pocket.  Ske  kad  done  so  before,  and  found  it 
p2 


212        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

profitable :  I  suppose  she  had  no  idea,  as  a  trustee, 
that  it  was  illegal.  When,  however,  people  meddle 
with  bricks  and  mortar,  they  never  know  where  to 
stop.  Of  one  thing  she  was  quite  clear,  at  all 
events ;  that  Violet  was  a  valuable  possession,  and 
Madame  made  up  her  mind  that  the  longer  she 
could  keep  her  the  better.  It  required  no  great 
intelligence  to  see  that. 

"  There  is  safety  in  numbers,"  said  she,  as  she 
carried  her  off  to  Brighton  in  the  beginning  of  the 
fashionable  season.  "Anywhere  out  of  easy  reach 
of  Portbridge." 

Colville  returned  home  from  his  visit  to  touch  up 
the  New  Zealanders,  and  to  pursue  that  ingenious 
process  of  making  silk  purses  out  of  swine's  ears. 
Having  never  formally  undertaken  to  act  as  a 
trustee  with  Madame,  and  having  entrusted  the 
active  exercise  of  the  duty  to  herself  and  !Mr. 
Shearham,  he  enjoyed  a  part  of  the  moral  respon- 
sibility with  some  of  the  pleasures  of  interference. 
His  position  in  this  respect  was  altogether  anoma- 
lous. Madame  Kosenfels  herself  had  almost  besun 


violet's  trustees.  213 

to  regard  his  counsel  as  an  impertinence :  but,  like 
many  persons  of  mixed  character,  she  was  un- 
willing to  discard  the  mask  of  respectability  which 
attached  to  apparent  honesty  of  pui'pose,  so  long  as 
her  designs  were  not  openly  thwarted.  The  lady, 
it  viHl  be  seen,  was  essentially  that  which  the  gen- 
tleman was  not — a  woman  of  business,  of  action, 
of  deliberate  determination :  and  when  years  before 
the  old  Eastbourne  physician  had  offered  a  cranio- 
logical  opinion  on  her  character,  he  had  been 
singularly  appreciative  of  her  talents.  Colville 
was  a  clever  man :  far  cleverer  as  a  man  than  Ma- 
dame was  as  a  woman:  but  he  was  deficient  in 
energy,  unless  pitted  against  men,  upon  subjects 
which  interested  him.  Hence  his  almost  unin- 
telligible acceptance  of  a  position,  which  Madame 
Rosenfels  had  made  for  him :  that  of  sleeping 
partner  in  a  very  bad  business.  The  redeeming 
part  in  it  was  one  which  he  never  considered ;  his 
legal  freedom  from  responsibility.  It  was  well  for 
Madame  that  !Mi's.  Colville  had  not  the  manage- 
ment of  these  affahs. 


214 


CHAPTER  XII. 

OUR  VILLAGE. 

Variety's  the  source  of  joy  below. — Gay. 

Lymmersfield  had  its  parties,  and  very  strong 
ones  they  were — social,  religious,  and  political.  It 
was  the  business  of  Hany  Colville  and  his  wife  to 
know  everybody:  so  they  did:  not  intimately,  but 
as  a  gentleman  who  occasionally  did  the  duty  in 
the  parish  church,  with  a  kind  and  neighbourly 
feeling;  which  is  better  far  than  a  familiarity, 
which  frequently  breeds  contempt. 

Dufferling,  the  chairman  of  the  Puffanblow 
Railway  Company,  and  a  great  man  in  the  City, 


OUE  VILLAGE.  215 

but  whose  fame  had  never  readied  Lpnmersfield 
till  he  came  to  live  there,  was  a  leader  of  one  party. 
He  lived  in  a  large  white  house,  had  a  great  lady 
in  many  senses  for  a  wife,  and  a  numerous  family 
which  appeared  to  be  all  feathers,  black  velvet,  and 
scarlet  stocking,  with  plenty  of  hair.     His  want  of 
liberality  impaired  somewhat  his  popularity.     He 
took  a  large  part  in  everything  which  cost  him 
nothing,  and  acted  on  a  grand  principle  of  getting 
aU  he  could  out  of  everybody.     He  was  an  im- 
posing-lookmg  person,  with  plenty  of  whisker,  an 
intelhgent  baldness,   and  great  severity  of  white 
waistcoat.      He  had  much  heartiness  of  manner, 
and    tendered  his  advice    and    indeed  assistance 
at  times.     He  parted  freely  enough  with  every- 
thing but  money.     "Pay  the  fellow  liberally,  and 
let  him  go,"  said  he,  always  in  reference  to  some- 
body else's  expenses;  or,  "I  should  be  delighted 
to  subscribe,  or  do  anything  I  could  for  the  poor 
fellow,  but  it's  impossible  to  break  through  a  prin- 
ciple."    His  charity  began  at  home,  and  stopped 
there. 


216        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

Plantagenet  Twigg  was  one  of  his  followers. 
He  called  himself  a  general  merchant,  a  City  man, 
being  indeed  a  simple  and  prosperous  maltster,  and 
to  be  seen  any  day  in  a  crowded  thoroughfare 
near  Leadenhall- street.  There  he  indulged  in 
mighty  speculations :  sugars  by  the  hogshead, 
cigars  by  the  hundred- weight,  tallow  by  the  cask, 
and  French  wines  by  the  brand  :  anything,  in  fact, 
but  malt.  He  had  plenty  of  money,  was  a  great 
patron  of  Poole  and  Bartley,  an  authority  on 
hunting  on  a  small  scale ;  was  a  generous,  good- 
natured,  unrefined  specimen  of  British  industry, 
and  liked  to  dine  at  the  great  white  house  occa- 
sionally, where  he  was  allowed  to  meet  the  elite  of 
the  village.  Privately  he  has  been  heard  to  declare 
that  Dufferling  was  a  screw,  to  which  he  prefixed 
a  weighty  expletive. 

There  were  half  a  dozen  more  of  the  same  sort 
who  shared  the  same  extensive  hospitality.  They 
all  kept  broughams,  and  sympathised  in  a  common 
jealousy  of  Barrington.  "  Who  the  deuce  was  Bar- 
rington,  they  should  like  to  know;  to  give  him- 


OUR  VILLAGE.  217 

self  airs :  just  because  he  had  marnecl  an  Eaii's 
daughter?" 

Then  there  were  the  jovial,  devil-may-care 
barristers,  some  with  briefs,  and  some  without : 
all  free  and  easy,  laugh-compelling  gentlemen 
with  plenty  of  whisker,  but  cleanly  shorn  chins. 
They  smoked  together,  and  had  their  own  jokes, 
and  dined  in  town,  coming  down  by  the  late  train, 
who  wouldn't  have  Dufferling  at  any  price.  In- 
deed they  much  preferred  Twigg,  who  had  not 
much  to  say  about  literature  and  the  Saturday 
Reviewj  but  opened  his  cigar-case  to  them  as  they 
went  up  to  chambers  every  morning.  They  dined 
so  well  at  their  clubs  and  in  tow^i,  that  they  didn't 
care  for  the  fish  and  soup,  and  the  badly  cooked 
entrees,  and  the  joint,  and  the  splendid  plate  which 
they  got  down  at  Lymmersfield ;  but  knocked  up 
a  chop  dinner  among  themselves,  and  discussed 
Gladstone's  "  Homer,"  and  the  Chancellor's  Law 
Reforms,  and  light  French  literature,  and  the 
Rotten  Row  beauties,  and  the  demi-monde  in 
general.     They  were  a  little  h'regular  at  church, 


218 

and  cut  splendid  jokes  on  the  mercantile  brough- 
ams and  their  occupants. 

There  was  a  strong  religious  party  headed  by 
^Ii\  Manning.  He  carried  away  the  old  women 
and  the  unappropriated  females,  the  curate,  and 
the  respectable  well-to-do  gossips  of  the  place. 
They  did  much  good  too  in  their  way.  They 
headed  subscription  lists  with  gigantic  liberality 
that  astonished  the  Dufferling  party,  from  whom 
they  demanded  money,  not  principles.  Their  wives, 
assisted  by  Mrs.  Colville,  did  the  Dorcas  and 
flannel-petticoat  societies,  and  looked  after  the  poor 
women,  who  were  said  to  be  one  too  many  for  an 
unmarried  curate.  They  were  good  praiseworthy 
people,  and  had  their  reward  in  the  conscious  rec- 
titude of  their  own  intentions  and  the  ceaseless 
ingratitude  of  their  opponents.  There  is  nothing 
people  hate  so  much  as  being  reminded  of  tlieir 
duties ;  so  they  christened  the  worthy  lawyer 
the  Solicitor-General. 

Lymmersfield  had,  too,  its  gossiping  shops.  None 
equalled  the  morning  train  to  London-bridge. 


OUE  VILLAGE. 


219 


"How  are  you,  Dufferling?  So  Barrington 
has  lost  a  lot  of  money,  I  liear,  by  the  Liverpool 
Steeple-chase  ?  "  So  spoke  Plantagenet  Twigg,  who 
was  bound  to  be  posted  m  sport. 

"  I  did  hear  something  about  it,"  says  the  chair- 
man, exposmg  his  breast  to  the  morning  breeze, 
for  it  was  not  the  right  thing  to  be  behindliand 
in  intelhgence. 

"Indeed?  I  hear  he's  likely  to  go,"  added  Rum- 
ford,  of  the  War  Office. 

"Sad  thing  for  Lady  Clara:  his  horses  are 
going  to  Tattersall's  next  week."  This  was  partly 
true,  as  a  detachment  of  screws  was  going  to  be 
disposed  of  preparatory  to  a  fresh  instalment. 
"As  to  Barrington,  I  always  did  think  him  a 
gi-eat  fool.  Thinks  a  monstrous  deal  of  him- 
self." 

"Xot  so  bad  a  fellow  when  you  know  him," 
said  young  Potts,  the  distiller,  ^vho  had  a  shght 
bowing  acquaintance  with  him,  engendered  from 
the  sale  of  a  barren  Alderney,  in  which  Barring- 
ton's  baihff  had  got  so  much    the  best  of   the 


220        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

bargain,  that  his  master's  heart  was  softened,  and 
he  offered  to  take  her  back. 

"Very  extraordinary  thing  about  Manning," 
said  Plantagenet. 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  inquii'ed  his  neigh- 
bour. 

"  He  guaranteed  the  money  for  tlie  repairs  of 
the  church ;  and  he's  nearly  fifty  pounds  short. 
They've  sued  him,  and  he'll  have  to  pay." 

"  What's  he  going  to  do  ?  "  says  Potts  :  "  he  can 
afford  it,  I  suppose." 

"  He's  going  to  have  a  subscription,  and  a 
sermon,  and  that  sort  of  thing,  you  know." 

"  That  I  shall  set  my  face  against,  on  principle," 
says  the  Chairman  of  the  Puffanblow  Railway. 
"  I  refused  to  subscribe  at  first,  and  it  would  be 
impossible  to  give  way  now."  Here  he  involuntarily 
buttoned  his  pocket. 

"  But  he  don't  want  you  to  give  way,  Mr.  Chair- 
man ;  he  wants  you  to  give  money,"  said  Potts. 

"By  Jove!"  says  Leader.  "Come  in  here 
Slasher ;  how  are  you  ?  What  do  you  think  Blathe- 


OUR  VILLAGE.  221 

"vvicke  says  of  tlie  service,  since  the  choir  has  been 
established?" 

"  No  idea  what  the  learned  Serjeant  may  have 
perpetrated :  nothing  too  bad  for  him." 

"  Wliy !  Young  Banks,  the  carpenter,  leads  the 
choir :   so  he  calls  him  Banks  and  Brays." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Meddell,  I  assure  you  that's  the 
fact.  Violet  Carloss,  poor  girl,  is  quite  off  her 
head :  and  Madame  Eosenfels  is  gone  to  consult 
Dr.  Sutherland."  Thus  spoke  our  old  acquaint- 
ance, Mrs.  Betel  Crusher. 

"  Ah !  that  comes  of  their  pic-nics  and  water 
parties  :  I  said  so,  all  along.  What  could  they 
expect  ?  And  what's  become  of  LIr.  Beauclerc  ?  I 
recollect  him  so  high."  Here  the  lady  put  out  a 
small  umbrella.  "I'm  sure  I  always  gave  him 
credit  for  being  a  very  steady  young  man." 

"  Oh !  I  don't  blame  him  so  much,  I'm  sure. 
But  there's  ^ir.  Colville,  he  knows  no  more  of  the 
world  than  a  baby :  just  see  how  they've  brought 
up  their  own  daughter,  going  all  over  the  country 
by  herself,  and  painting  signs,  and  I  don't  know 


222        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

what.  And  that  Madame,  as  they  call  her.  Ah ! 
I've  no  patience  with  your  Madames,  indeed ;"  and 
here  Mrs.  Boxer,  the  widow  of  the  late  respected 
Boxer,  F.C.S.  and  M.D.,  of  Lymmersfield,  in- 
dulged in  sundry  nods  and  winks  to  her  neigh- 
bours, and  sighed  deeply. 

Mrs.  Boxer  was  one  of  the  kindest-hearted 
women  alive,  and  would  have  taken  Violet  Carloss 
to  her  bosom  at  a  moment's  notice ;  but  the  at- 
mosphere of  the  train  was  redolent  of  scandal, 
and  she  couldn't  resist. 

In  the  mean  time,  Violet  and  Madame  were  en- 
joying themselves  exceedingly  by  the  seaside. 

The  trade  of  the  place,  too,  was  an  euphemism 
for  robbery :  two  hundred  per  cent,  on  all  goods ; 
and  good  behaviour  and  prompt  payment  required 
to  get  what  you  wanted  at  all.  Lymmersfield  was 
a  close  borough,  and  lacked  contesting. 

Lymmersfield  stood  on  a  hill ;  and  at  the  top  of 
the  hill  was  a  grand  public.  Its  proprietor  called 
it  the  hotel,  as  indeed  it  had  been  long  time  ago, 
when  at  least  fifty  coaches  changed  horses  in  the 
village,  and  as  many  pairs  of  posters  were  wanted 


OUK  VILLAGE.  223 

to  convey  the  aristocracy  down  the  Portbridge 
road.  But  the  mighty  were  fallen.  It  provided 
three  horses  and  two  flys,  and,  having  a  cantan- 
kerous sort  of  landlord,  was  altogether  at  a  dis- 
count.   It  was  nearly  unfrequented. 

Its  great  institution  was  the  tap  ;  and  here  the 
butcher's  son,  the  young  corn-chandler  (a  great 
authority  on  the  doings  of  the  Ring,  and  an  uncom- 
promising studier  of  the  Sporting  Life)^  jomig 
joiners  engaged  on  job,  and  the  local  vet.,  with  their 
associates,  met  every  evening  for  the  discussion  of 
village  news.  Nor  was  it  always  confined  to  these. 
It  would  have  been  a  gratifying  sight  to  Pater- 
familias who  encourao^es  smokino;  at  home,  as  a 
harmless  amusement,  or  winks  at  it  as  a  necessary 
evil,  to  have  looked  in  upon  the  company  at  odd 
times,  on  which  the  student-life  of  England  re- 
cruited exhausted  nature. 

"  How  did  you  get  out,  Stan  dish  ?  "  said  Bentley, 
who  wore  a  billycock  hat  very  much  on  one  side, 
and  a  short-waisted  duckhunter,  with  a  small  cane 
in  one  pocket. 

"  Colville  thinks  I'm  in  the  garden."     Colville 


224        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

did  not,  and  was  only  waiting  an  opportunity  to 
tell  that  gentleman  that  he  should  decline  giving 
him  a  testimonial  to  the  Horse  Guards,  unless  he 
was  more  particular  in  the  company  he  kept.  "  I 
got  over  the  wall,  and  I  shall  go  back  the  same 
way,"  added  he. 

"Hallo!  Gorsehampton ;  how  did  you  get 
here?" 

"  I  had  leave  to  go  up  to  town,"  said  his  Lord- 
ship ;  "  and  I've  never  been  home." 

"Well,  then,  stop  and  have  a  pipe,"  said  Pitt, 
who  had  just  joined  them. 

"  No :  I  promised  to  be  home  at  eight,  and  it's 
very  near  that  noAv."  His  Lordship  had  some  regard 
for  his  word.     "  Hallo  !    what's  this  ?     Beauclerc 

gazetted  to  the  Hussars.     Has   any   fellow 

heard  from  him  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Pitt,  "  I  have :  I'm  going  to  Maid- 
stone on  Saturday  to  dine  and  sleep :  he  says  he's 
veiy  jolly.  Did  you  expect  him  to  get  through  so 
high,  Bentley  ?  " 

"No.     I  knew  he  was  safe  enough — at  least, 


OUR  VILLAGE.  225 

Colville  said  so,  but  five  tliousand  and  one  takes  a 
deal  of  o;ettin£][;.  I  wonder  where  the  one  comes 
from?" 

^'  It  must  be  a  curiously  close  computation — one 
fellow  got  through  by  one  run,  one  mark,  I  mean 
— closish  sha\mig.     Eighteen  hundred  and  one." 

"  Better  than  no  shaving  at  all,"  said  Pitt.  This 
was  rather  an  inconsiderate  remark  of  Mr.  Pitt's, 
seeing  that  it  was  addressed  to  an  unsuccessful 
competitor.  "  Isn't  Beauclerc  coming  here  to  see 
us,  or  is  he  too  great  a  swell  now  ?  " 

"  I  wonder  he  hasn't  been  to  see  Violet  Carloss 
since  he  got  tlu'ough." 

"If  he's  going  to  Maidstone,  he  won't  think 
much  more  about  Lymmersfield.  Jolly  place 
Maidstone  is,  I  can  tell  you.  My  brother  was 
quartered  there  for  I  don't  know  how  long.  Lots 
of  fun,  -vdsiting,  and  dining,  and  hunting,  and 
dancing,  and  all  that." 

"  So  I  should  think,"  said  Gorsehampton. 
"  We've  all  heard  of  the  Kentish  hops."  As  no 
one  had  ever  heard  of  the  produce  of  that  county, 

VOL.  I.  Q 


220        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

the  joke  would  have  fallen  quite  flat,  but  for  the 
arrival  of  the  butcher's  boy,  who  heard  it  in  the 
midst  of  the  enjoyment  of  a  glass  of  ale  which  he 
had  called  for.  He  burst  out  laughing,  dispersing 
his  beer  pretty  freely  over  the  floor ;  and  wiping 
his  mouth  with  the  back  of  his  sleeve,  he  said : 

"  Danged  if  that  ain't  good  now,  Bentley ;  I  call 
that  first  chop,  I  do." 

"  Well,  that's  a  subject  you  ought  to  know  some- 
thing about,"  replied  Bentley,  looking  very  sulky 
at  the  freedom  of  his  young  associate. 

"Who  the  devil's  that?"  said  his  Lordship, 
rather  astonished  that  a  stranger  should  have  taken 
the  liberty  of  applauding  a  joke  of  his. 

'^  Oh  !  it's  only  that  fool.  Suet :  he's  always  here 
making  a  row." 

"Is  he?"  said  the  young  Earl,  taking  up  his 
hat  and  walking  straight  out  of  the  room.  It  was 
his  first  visit  to  the  taproom  of  the  Fox  and 
Hounds,  and  he  took  care  that  it  was  the  last. 

"  That's  a  blackguard  place,"  said  his  Lordship, 
when  his  companions  returned  home,  very  unfit 


OUR  VILLAGE.  227 

for  the  historical  lecture  which  they  professed  to 
attend  in  the  study  from  nine  to  ten.  '*  That's  a 
blackguard  place,  and,  if  I  were  you  fellows,  I 
wouldn't  go  any  more.  I  know  Coh-ille  hates  it, 
and  wouldn't  stand  it  if  he  was  to  catch  us.  It's 
all  veiy  well  smoking  a  pipe  and  having  a  glass  of 
beer,  but  I  can't  stand  young  Suet  and  Mac- 
grane,  with  his  long  jaw  about  Nobby  Hall  and 
the  Nigger.  I  wouldn't  go  there  any  more,  if  I 
were  you  fellows,  dashed  if  I  would."  And  as 
his  opinion  was  worth  something,  the  tap  for  a 
time  went  out  of  fashion,  and  the  village  festivities 
were  not  enlivened  by  the  presence  of  the  sons 
of  two  [Masters  of  Fox-hounds,  of  a  Member 
of  Parliament,  and  the  nephew  of  a  Cabinet 
Minister. 

Distinguishing  justly  between  village  life  and 
low  life,  and  having  no  taste  for  the  latter,  I  shall 
decline  entering  upon  its  characteristics  any  further, 
as  exhibited  by  the  mixed  company  of  the  Fox  and 
Hounds  of  Lymmersfield,  Frank  Beauclerc  had 
other  ideas  of  pleasure  and  of  duty,  and  without 
q2 


228 

being  a  model  pi^pil,  was  satisfied  with  the  position 
and  society  wliich  education  and  accident  had  en- 
tailed upon  him.  I  do  not  think  his  industry  was 
equal  to  the  structure  of  a  great  name  or  a  large 
fortune :  but  there  was  a  consistency  about  him, 
joined  to  an  elasticity  of  intellect,  which  would 
have  kept  him  from  falHng  below  his  level.  Of  one 
thing  you  might  be  quite  certain,  that  he  never 
w^ould  have  risen  by  unworthy  means.  Nature 
had  made  him  a  gentleman,  and  education  had 
completed  the  work  by  making  him  a  Christian. 
The  practical  result  of  birth  and  training  in  Lord 
Gorsehampton  was  the  same ;  but  with  a  difference. 
As  long  as  the  circumstances  of  the  case  were  easy 
and  ordinary,  practically  the  two  men  would  have 
stood  on  equal  ground  in  the  eyes  of  the  world. 
In  strong  temptation  the  latter  might  have  failed ; 
the  former  would  have  assuredly  conquered.  There 
was  something  to  back  a  sense  of  hic^li  truth  in 
Frank,  which  would  give  him  unflinching  deter- 
mination in  difficulties,  and  a  superiority  to  defeat. 
IIow  many  fathers  send   their   sous   to   Eton    or 


OUE  VILLAGE.  229 

Harrow  to  become  gentlemen  ?  I  wonder  at  tlieir 
notion  of  the  word.  A  few,  wlio  would  have  been 
such  without  it,  strengthen  their  position  by  tact 
and  worldly  knowledge,  good  manners,  and  facile 
scholarship.  A  vast  majority  mistake  fast  living 
for  savoir  fairs,  and  low  life  for  independence  of 
character. 

But  Frank  Beauclerc  was  gone,  and  his  mantle 
had  fallen  on  Lord  Gorsehampton's  shoulders. 
He  had  a  host  of  Ahabs  to  practise  upon. 

^'  1  say,  Gorsehampton,  Beauclerc's  gazetted  to 
the Hussars." 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  Have  you  had  a  letter  ?  " 
said  his  Lordship. 

"  No  :  I  saw  it  in  the  paper,  up  at  the  Fox." 
[N.B.— This  was  the  short  for  the  sign  of  the 
aforesaid  public-house.] 

"  Where's  the  regiment  ?  " 

"  At  Maidstone.     He  got  through  rather  well." 

"  Do  you  know  why '?  because,  if  not,  I'll  tell 
you."  It  will  be  perceived  that  this  young  aristo- 
crat was  tolerably  free  spoken.     "  Because  he  pre- 


2oO         THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

ferred  reading  at  home  to  smoking  and  drinking 
at  the  village  pubHc:  and  if  you're  wise,  Pitt, 
you'll  do  the  same." 

Pitt  reflected :  and  reflection  is  very  valuable 
and  very  rare  at  his  time  of  hfe.  We  haven't 
much  to  do  with  him  or  his  companions  ^^hen 
Frank  is  once  launched  into  Hfe,  but  we  may  as 
well  say  that  he  was  just  one  of  that  numerous 
class  who,  being  but  slightly  impressed  by  precept, 
has  the  more  to  learn  from  example.  "I  can't 
understand  the  pleasures  of  talking  to  young  Suet 
and  Macgrane,  with  his  eternal  nonsense  about  the 
^hodds'  on  this  ^'orse,'  and  the  ^hodds'  on  the 
other.  He  never  puts  the  '  hodds '  on  the  proper 
shoulders.  If  I  were  you  fellows,  I  wouldn't  go 
there  any  more." 

The  young  delinquents  w^erc  more  successful  at 
their  next  examination. 


231 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

JUST  JOINED. 

"We  are  but  warriors  for  a  working  day. 

Shakespeare. 

In  times  of  peace  tlie  lives  of  young  cavalry 
officers  do  not  differ  much  from  one  another.  A 
little  duty,  which  our  colonels  expect  to  have  well 
done ;  a  good  mess ;  a  general  welcome  in  the 
county,  which  is  of  course  due  to  their  moral  and 
intellectual  superiority  over  any  other  branch  of 
the  service  ;  an  unquestioned  right  to  a  moustache, 
which  of  late  years  has  been  shared  with  Govern- 
ment clerks,  ambitious  curates,  all  the  Infantry, 
and  most  of  the  Volunteers,  make  life  pleasant  as 


232         THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

well  as  ornamental.  The  dress  is  becoming,  and 
particularly  useful  in  a  ball-room,  where  it  is  cal- 
culated to  keep  off  intruders  in  a  crowd,  and  to 
make  great  emplopiient  for  the  underpaid  and 
overworked  milliners'  girls — a  debt  to  that  class  of 
the  fair  sex  which  is  fairly  due  from  gentlemen 
who  are  said  to  have  such  eminent  success  among 
them.  The  hunting-field  is  recommended,  indeed 
insisted  upon,  by  the  press,  as  the  one  great  school  for 
cavalry  officers  :  and  France  is  at  all  times  pointed 
to  as  an  illustrious  example  of  its  infallibility. 
Character  is  developed  by  the  matutinal  and  post- 
prandial cigar  ;  a  judgment  for  claret  is  cultivated ; 
steeple-chasing  gives  a  tone  to  the  stomach  for  the 
steward's  ordinary,  and  a  dignified  contempt  for 
cold  water  in  cold  blood;  while  not  only  a  taste 
for,  but  a  quickness  in,  calculation  is  attained  by 
constant  attendance  on  the  race-course,  and  an 
unchecked  confidence  in  laying  or  taking  the  odds. 
These  are  a  few  of  the  agrcmens  which  assume  the 
position  of  duties  in  a  crack  cavalry  corps;  and 
Frank  Beauclerc  was  not  slow  to  profit  by  them. 


JUST  JOINED.  233 

But  ^Ye  must  do  Frank  justice.  He  was  no 
coward,  but  lie  was  not  a  man  to  take  a  header 
without  first  ascertaining  the  depth  of  the  water 
and  his  own  capabiHty  for  swimming.  Neither 
had  he  that  obhquity  of  moral  vision  which  pre- 
tends to  see  virtue  in  vice,  because  it  comes  with  a 
gilded  exterior.  He  knew  the  real  value  of  most 
things,  seen  even  through  the  refracted  rays  of 
pleasm-e  and  enthusiasm.  He  became  a  great 
favourite  in  his  regiment :  in  fact,  the  most  popu- 
lar man  that  had  joined  since  poor  Flatman,  who 
was  killed  in  a  run  from  Balleycasey  Castle.  To 
be  sure,  there's  a  great  deal  of  ill-directed  ardour 
in  popularity.  The  British  public,  or  the  officers  of 
a  regiment,  follow  a  cry  as  staunchly  as  a  pack  of 
hounds  score  to  the  cry  of  one  leader,  and  some- 
times have  to  be  whipped  off  hare.  It  is  very 
fickle  too,  and  somewhat  vulgar.  There  is  a  glare, 
and  a  heat,  and  a  crowd  about  the  movements  of 
a  popular  man,  which  either  oppress  and  restrain 
him  in  following  the  bent  of  his  own  tastes,  or 
urge  him  to  an  unnatui'al  anticipation  of  the  tastes 


23-4        THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SON 


of  liis  pursuers.  In  fact,  like  the  fox,  who  is 
taking  the  lead  for  safety  and  to  avoid  the  pressui'e 
of  the  crowd  behind,  he  seems  to  be  playing  the 
same  game  ;  when,  all  the  time,  he  is^conscious  of 
a  danger  which  is  being  forced  upon  him,  hazard- 
ously and  unfortunately.  Popular  men  should  be 
leniently  criticised  :  they  are  not  their  own  masters. 
Like  drunkards,  they  are  acting  under  a  pressure 
of  circumstances ;  but,  unlike  them,  they  are  not 
even  responsible  for  the  cause.  Only  one  out  of 
a  thousand  is  allowed  to  lead  from  beginning  to 
end.  Poor  Flatman  !  He  spent  all  his  money  in 
the  cause,  all  his  time,  and  a  great  deal  of  his 
health,  and  killed  himself  in  support  of  the  pres- 
tige of  the  Hussars   with  the  Balleycasey 

Hounds.  The  unpopular  man  who  applauds  him- 
self at  home  is  at  least  as  fortunate  as  this.      ' 

Frank's  popularity,  however,  was  not  of  this 
kind  :  it  was  of  a  better  class  altogether.  By  the 
time  he  had  left  the  depot  and  had  been  with  his 
regiment  a  twelvemonth  or  more,  he  had  acquired 
a  character,  as  well  as  a  popularity,  which  did  as 


JUST  JOINED.  235 

mucli  good  to  others  as  to  himself.  He  was  more 
hke  the  leading  hound  than  the  fox  :  and  he  gave 
a  good  healthy  tone  to  the  regimental  subalterns, 
■which  acted  indirectly  upon  those  who  were  of 
loncrer  service  and  hio;her  orade. 

o  on 

"  That's  a  promising  young  officer,  ]\Iajor,  that 
Frank  Beauclerc.  I  don't  know  when  we've  had 
such  a  good-looking,  active  youngster  join  us. 
Certainly  not  since  I've  had  the  regiment." 

"  Indeed  he  is.  Colonel,"  said  Major  Steadiman, 
a  Scotch  gentleman  who  had  gained  his  present 
position  from  the  ranks  by  transcendent  courage 
and  an  undeviating  course  of  honourable  duty,  not 
without  a  necessary  economy  for  which  his  coun- 
trymen are  considered  famous.  "  Indeed  he  is,  a 
vara  extra-a-ordinarv  youno;  mon  :  a  leetle  inclined 
to  be  gay,  to  be  sure " 

"  Come,  Major,  I  think  you're  a  leetle  inclined 
to  be  hypercritical,"  said  the  Colonel. 

The  Major  did  not  quite  understand  what  that 
was,  but  proceeded  to  defend  his  position. 

"Na   doubt.    Colonel,   the   callant's   as   fine   a 


236    THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

looking  soldier-like  mon  as  ever  put  foot  into  stir- 
rup ;  but  lie's  ower  fond  of  hunting  his  chargers  ; 
and  I'm  told  —  mind,  I  don't  speak  of  my  own 
knowledge — that  both  his  hacks  can  race." 

"Well,  it's  difficult  for  a  youngster,  with 
money,  to  live  in  a  regiment  like  this  without 
some  taste  for  horseflesh  :  it's  part  of  his  profession. 
Major ;  besides,  he's  no  gambler  even  in  that ;  he 
never  puts  on  above  a  tenner,  and  that  with  a 
brother-officer.     We  were  young  ourselves  once." 

The  Colonel  asserted  this  with  an  eye  to  a 
moral  juvenility,  in  which,  it  should  be  remarked, 
the  Major  had  never  had  any  part.  "  I'm  no 
speaking  against  the  young  mon.  Colonel;  he's 
the  smartest  officer  and  the  best  rider  we  liave  in 
the  corps,  and  he's  the  vara  quickest  and  steadiest 
coachman  I  ever  sat  behind :  but  I'm  no  friend 
to  the  Turf,  Colonel." 

"Nor  I,  Major;  I've  seen  too  much  of  it. 
Lien  do  begin,  as  you  say,  with  their  tenners  "  (not 
that  the  Major  had  said  so,  for  he  would  have 
called  it  a  "  ten-purid  note"),  "  and  go   on,  like 


JUST  JOINED.  237 

bricks  and  mortar,  till  tliey  never  know  wliere  to 
stop.  But  I  don't  think  Frank  Beauclerc  is 
likely  to  commit  himself  in  that  way." 

"  Maybe  not :  but  it's  ill  playing  wi'  edged 
tools.  There's  no  gentleman  of  my  acqueentance 
that  has  raised  himself  by  assorting  wi'  bad  com- 
pany ;  and  a  great  many  that  have  brought 
mickle  grief  to  themselves  and  their  families." 

"  I'm  told  he's  a  capital  billiard-player.  That's 
a  more  dangerous  accomplishment  than  the  other, 
to  my  mind,"  said  the  Colonel. 

"I  never  see  a  young  gentleman  knocking 
about  the  balls,  as  they  call  it,  in  a  public  room, 
without  thinking  him  a  fool,  and  premising  that 
he  will  become  a  knave,  if  Providence  has  only 
given  him  brains  for  the  situation." 

"Frank  Beauclerc  doesn't  want  them,  at  all 
events  :  let's  hope  he  may  use  them  to  another 
purpose.  Major.  Here's  his  health."  And  the 
jolly  Colonel  drained  a  glass  of  sheriy  and  pushed 
the  bottle  to  his  companion.     "  One  more  glass." 

"I  remember  his   father  weel   in  India.      He 


238    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

was  as  like  liim  as  twa  peas  ;  but  younger- 
looking  and  not  so  steady.  He'd  one  great 
fault,  Colonel.  He  never  said  *  no.'  He  was 
a  mighty  favourite  with  us  all.  Everybody 
loved  him  ;  and  when  he  married,  there  wasn't 
a  woman  out  there  that  wasn't  ready  to  break 
her  heart." 

"  I've  heard  he  was  not  very  happy  in  his 
choice,"  said  Colonel  Hoplight. 

"I  never  heard  that  he  replaced  the  first  Mrs. 
Beauclerc  wi'  a  second,  and  it's  no  gude  sign 
that,  Colonel." 

"No,  but  there  was  some  curious  story  about 
him  and  some  lady  up  in  the  country." 

"  Yes,  there  was  :  wdien  he  was  up  in  the  hills 
— but  that  was  after  his  wife's  death  some  length 
of  time — and  nobody  ever  knew  the  rights  o'  the 
story.  The  ladies  in  Calcutta — that's  them  he 
didn't  pay  much  attention  to — were  vara  wroth 
for  a  time ;  but  when  he  came  back  they  re- 
ceived him  wi'  all  the  honours.  Ye  see  then  he 
was   a  widower,  and  his  uncle   had  died   in  the 


JUST  JOINED.  239 

mean  time.  He  opened  a  great  ball  at  Cal- 
cutta wi'  the  Judge-Advo Gate's  lady,  and  that 
put  the  whole  matter  right :  but  I  hear  he  didn't 
marry  Sir  Joseph  Parchment's  daughter  after 
all." 

The  stalwart  Major  here  rose,  and,  wishing  the 
Colonel  a  good  evening,  retired  to  his  quarters ; 
while  the  Colonel  himself,  lighting  a  cigar,  after 
exchanging  his  coat  for  a  smoking- jacket,  pro- 
ceeded to  look  over  his  book  on  the  Grand 
Military,  in  which  his  pet  cornet  and  one  of 
his  captains  were  engaged.  As  he  appreciated 
Frank's  forbearance  in  the  betting-ring,  we  hope 
he  found  his  account  satisfactory,  and  not  too 
hea^y. 

"  Hallo  !  Beauclerc,  what  are  you  going  to  do 
to-morrow  ?  "  said  the  junior  lieutenant. 

"  Nothing  at  all,"  said  Frank,  meaning  that  he 
had  no  particular  engagement  that  need  prevent 
him  from  joining  any  agreeable  amusement  pro- 
posed to  him. 

"  Then,  by  Jove  !  old  fellow,  I  wish  you'd  take 
my  duty  ;  I  want  to  go  to  Leamington  ;  and  we're 


240        THE  BEAUCLEKCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

ordered  to  Brighton  next   week  :    I   shant   have 
another  chance." 

"  Ordered  to  Brighton  :  what's  that  for  ?  " 
^'  To  reheve  the  Fifteenth.  Capital  quarters  : 
lots  of  balls ;  and  the  season's  just  at  its  height. 
All  the  Jews  and  Jewesses  gone  last  month, 
and  the  swells  coming  in."  The  speaker  was 
Lieutenant  the  Honourable  Tom  Dashwood — a 
fair,  tall,  decidedly  languid  youth,  with  unexcep- 
tionable hands  and  feet,  and  a  very  delicately- 
formed  nose.  Just  the  thing  for  Leamington, 
where  he  made  the  trottoir  to  resound  with  his 
boots,  and  the  clubs  with  his  brilliant  conversa- 
tion. Tom  Dashwood  was  a  great  lady-killer  : 
indeed,  time  and  women  were  his  great  victims, 
so  that  Brighton  suited  him  to  a  turn.  Nobody 
knew  how  Tom  got  rid  of  his  money,  but  he  was 
always  dreadfully  hard  up. 

"  The  Jews  and  Jewesses  gone  ?  "  replied  Beau- 
clerc — "  that's  a  bad  look  out  for  you  :  you  could 
kill  two  birds  with  one  stone,  Tom.  What  a 
thing  it  would  be  to  put  up  at  the  Three  Balls  : 
what  would  Lord  Tremencourt  say  ?  " 


JUST  JOIXED.  •  241 

"  Oh!  you're  always  chaffing  a  fellow.  Will  you 
take  my  duty  to-morrow  ?  " 

^'  I  believe  you're  after  no  good,  Dashwood ; 
tell  us  all  about  it.  There's  a  woman  at  the  bottom 
of  it/'  said  Frank,  laughing.     "  AYho  is  it  ?  " 

^'  Ah  !  I'm  not  going  to  tell  you,  old  fellow : 
you'll  be  going  over  yourself.  Will  you  take  my 
turn  to-morrow  ?     Come,  tell  me  that." 

"  Well,  I  will  if  you'll  tell  me  her  name,"  said 
Frank,  still  laughing  ;  when  in  came  Charlie 
Ivyder.  He  had  joined  but  a  short  time,  and  had 
already  exhibited  symptoms  of  pace  which,  whether 
in  the  field  or  elsewhere,  is  sure  to  end  in  irrief. 
Charlie  had  all  the  characteristics  of  a  spoilt 
child.  He  had  blue  eyes,  long  eyelashes,  curly 
air,  a  good  nose,  slightly  retrousse,  laughing  mouth, 
and  a  neat  figure  :  was  about  five  feet  six,  and  a 
general  professor.  In  fact,  he  was  bidding  fair  for 
the  popularity  which  Flatman  had  enjoyed,  and 
which  Beauclerc  despised  :  and  he  really  would 
have  stood  a  good  chance  had  he  been  only  four 
inches  taller.     We  forgot  to  say  that  it  was  after 

VOL.  I.  R 


:>42         THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

luncheon,  and  that  the  mess-room  was  deserted ; 
so  Charlie  warmed  himself  in  a  gentlemanly  man- 
ner, while  the  winter's  sun  stole  in  a  quiet  sickly 
Avay  in  at  the  windows  of  the  dull,  ill-furnished 
apartment.  It  lighted  up  a  portrait  of  General 
Sir  John  Moore  at  Corunua. 

"  Who  is  it  you're  talking  about,  Beauclerc  : 
the  woman  at  Leamington?  Ah!  isn't  she  a 
stunner,  that's  all!  She  can  give  Miss  Moss  a 
stone  and  a  half,  and  w^alk  in." 

"You're  improving,  Charlie,"  said  Lieutenant 
Dashwood ;  wdiile  Frank  looked  at  the  two  in 
silence,  and  wondered  whether  her  ^lajesty  had 
not  a  hard  bargain  in  both  of  them. 

"  Ah  !  you're  not  much  of  a  Leamington 
man,  Beauclerc:  but  I  can  tell  you  that  Violet 
Carloss  isn't  to  be  sneezed  at.  Forty  thousand 
down,  and  such  a  stepper ;  isn't  she,  Dashwood  ?  " 

It  would  be  difficult  to  say  which  blushed  the 
deeper :  Beauclerc  or  Dashwood.  Charlie  Kyder 
then  began  a  catalogue  raisonnee  of  her  charms, 
which  Beauclerc  thought  right  to  interrupt  by  in- 


JUST  JOIXED.  213 

forming  them  of  liis  previous  acquaintance  ^vitli 
lier.  Xot  very  long  aftenvards  they  separated, 
and  as  Frank  went  towards  the  stables  he  began  to 
reflect  upon  the  name  of  the  girl  whom  he  had 
scarcely  seen  since  he  joined,  but  whose  image  had 
been  rarely  absent  from  his  thoughts. 

Beauclerc  had  been  but  seldom  to  Lymmersfield. 
Without  any  intention  of  appearing  indifferent, 
he  acknowledged  to  himself  that  his  visits  to  his 
old  tutor  had  not  been  as  frequent  as  they  ought 
to  have  been.  The  visit  or  two  that  he  had  paid 
had  been  short  and  unsatisfactory,  and  on  each 
occasion  Violet  and  Madame  had  been  absent  the 
greater  part  of  the  time.  He  was  not  vain,  or  he 
might  have  wondered  that  they  should  ha^'e  sought 
so  little  to  improve  his  auspiciously  begun  ac- 
quaintance. Violet  Carloss,  he  thought,  was  not 
likely  to  become  enamoured  of  the  petits  soins  of 
Tom  Dashwood;  but  he  felt  a  strong  inclination 
to  see  for  himself.  As  to  Charlie  Ryder,  he,  at  all 
events,  was  completely  out  of  the  hunt.  It  was 
astonishing,  however,  how  little  he  felt  disposed  to 
e2 


244 


gather  information  from  either  the  one  or  the 
other. 

Violet  Carloss  had  thouglit  of  Frank  as  a  girl  of 
lier  temperament  was  likely  to  think  of  the  man  to 
whom  she  owed  so  lastino;  an  oblif2;ation.  Madame 
Rosenfels,  it  is  true,  had  done  her  utmost  to  efface 
the  impression.  She  talked  but  little  of  him  her- 
self, and  avoided  the  Colvilles  as  far  as  she  could 
do  so.  She  was  rather  afraid  of  Mrs.  Colville's 
honesty,  and  havinfj  i^ot  Colville's  si2;nature  to  the 
completion  of  her  purchase,  was  not  particularly 
anxious  for  closer  inquiries  into  the  success  of  her 
speculation.  It  had  not  turned  out  well  as  yet ;  and 
the  buIldinfT  mania  was  less  rife  than  it  had  been. 

o 

^Ir.  Alderman  Smithers,  the  wholesale  purchaser, 
had  informed  Mr.  Shearham  that  he  was  not  pre- 
pared to  take  any  more  lots  at  three  hundred 
pounds  an  acre.  Madame  Kosenfels  had  burnt 
her  fingers. 

She  seemed  restless,  too,  and  not  so  careful  of  her 
w^ard's  matrimonial  interests  as  she  should  have 
been.     She  eschewed  eligible /7a?'^/5;  and  when  the 


JUST  JOIXED.  245 

Honourable  Tom  DashwoocI  demonstrated  beyond 
a  doubt  his  admiration  for  Violet,  she  determined 
upon  beating  a  retreat  from  the  Spa. 

Three  days  later,  Frank  Beauclerc  found  that 
his  horse,  whose  turn  it  was  to  go  to  Mitford 
AVood,  wanted  rest.  Pie  wanted  none  himself, 
so  he  made  his  way  to  Leamington.  Not 
having  ventured  upon  any  inquiries  from  Tom 
Dashwood  or  Charlie  Eyder,  he  turned  himself 
over  to  the  intelligence  of  the  postmaster. 

"  Do  you  know  the  address  of  a  lady  of  the 
name  of  Rosenfels?" 

The  master  referred  to  his  memoranda,  and  in- 
formed him  that  she  was  sta^-ing  at  104,  The 
Parade.  So  Frank  sought  the  Parade,  and  found 
a  very  handsome  jeAveller's  shop.  Having  knocked 
at  the  private  door,  he  was  answered  by  a  slipshod 
maid,  not  by  any  means  belonging  to  Madame 
Rosenfels's  establishment. 

"  Is  Madame  Rosenfels  staying  here  ? "  said 
Frank,  looking  at  a  deserted  staii'case  with  the 
carpets  up. 


246        THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHEE  AND  SOX. 

"  Please,  sir,  she  and  the  young  lady  went 
away  the  day  before  yesterday." 

"  And  where  are  their  letters  to  be  sent  to : 
have  they  left  no  address?"  Frank  was  rather 
surprised  at  the  quickness  of  the  move,  as  Tom 
Dashwood  was  in  utter  ignorance  of  any  such 
intention. 

"  They  talked  about  going  somewhere  to  the 
seaside  ;  but  I'll  go  and  ask,  sir,  if  you'll  step  in  a 
minute."  Frank  stepped  in  a  minute,  while  the 
girl  was  heard  in  colloquy  A\dth  Mrs.  Furnival, 
whom  she  addressed  by  name,  in  the  lower  regions. 
"Please,  sir,  this  is  the  card  as  she  left  with 
missus."  Frank  took  it,  and  read  in  Violet's  hand- 
writing, ''•  The  Cottage,  Lymmersfield." 

"  Then  they're  gone  home  !  "  said  he  to  himself. 
It  was  astonishing  how  annoyed  he  was ;  and  how 
the  girl's  image  haunted  him.  Surely,  he  could  not 
be  in  love.  I  don't  think  he  put  the  question  to 
himself  in  so  homely  a  way  as  that. 

He  was  walking  down  the  Parade  when  he  met 
with  an  old  acquaintance  coming  up.      A  quick 


JUST  JOIXED.  247 

and  a  good-looking  liorse  ^Yas  always  an  attraction 
to  Frank  ;  so  wliile  staring  at  the  mud-bespattered 
rider,  he  heard  himself  addressed  by  name,  and 
recognised  his  friend  Bentley. 

Bentley  assured  him  that  they  had  had  a  first-rate 
thing,  and  that  Ryder  of  "  his"  had  gone  splen- 
didly. ^ye  killed  only  three  miles  from  here,  and 
he's  waiting  for  the  train  now,  to  put  his  liorse  on." 

"  Confound  the  fellow,"  thought  Frank ;  "  now 
he'll  tell  that  ass  Dashwood  that  I've  been  here  all 
day." 


"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  Beaucler 


c  'i 


?  " 


"  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  train." 

"  Oh  I  never  mind  about  Ryder.  Come  home 
and  dine  with  me." 

"  I  can't  dress  ;  I've  no  clothes." 

"  Never  mind  about  that.  There's  nobody 
coming  but  Fairfax." 

"  What  time  can  I  get  away  ?  I  must  be  in 
barracks  to-night." 

"  There's  a  late  train  at  ten  thirty  to  Coventry. 
That  will  do  for  you.     When  Tve  left  my  horse, 


248    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

we'll  go  to  tlie  club  for  an  hour  or  two,  and  we  can 
dine  at  half-past  six.  Fairfax  is  sure  to  be  there, 
and  we'll  tell  him  of  the  alteration." 

Fairfax  was  there,  and  they  told  him  of  the 
alteration. 

All  young  men  seem  to  have  a  taste  for  what  Is 
called  a  little  dinner ;  a  potage,  sole  au  gratin,  or 
truites  au  capres  (when  you  can  get  them),  salmi 
de  perdrix,  canard  aux  olives,  chapon,  ccrevisses, 
with  some  trifle  of  cabinet  pudding,  and  creme  a  la 
vanille ;  all  very  good  in  their  way.  I  confess  I 
like  the  taste,  if  it  is  not  talked  about.  There's 
a  refinement  in  the  thing,  especially  since  we  have 
cut  our  gross  joints,  and  have  taken  to  diners  a  la 
Eusse.  Of  course  I  do  not  prefer  a  gourmand ;  'I 
like  only  an  epicure  ;  and  the  superintendence  of 
such  matters  should  be  left  to  the  mistress  and  the 
cook.  I  would  as  soon  see  a  man  hopelessly  drunk, 
as  hear  him  talk  about  eatino". 

o 

Bentley  was  a  sub  in  a  marching  regiment,  at 
which  dignity  he  had  arrived  with  some  difficulty, 
lie  was  not  by  any  means  at  the  top  of  the  tree 


JUST  JOINED.  249 

either ;  still  he  thought  it  desirable  to  cultivate  an 
acquaintance  with  made  dishes,  and  he  could 
scarcely  have  had  a  better  opportunity  than  at  the 
pastrycook's  shop,  over  which  he  resided.  Had  he 
had  a  natural  taste  for  this  sort  of  thing,  he  might 
have  attained  to  a  knowledge  of  culinary  smells. 
The  odours  wdiich  were  wafted  from  below  to  the 
ensign's  quarters,  if  not  always  pleasant,  w-ere  ap- 
petising and  various.  Mr.  Oldham  supplied  half 
Leamington  with  dinners  and  suppers  ;  and  if  he 
couldn't  do  for  an  ensign  and  his  friends,  it  was  a 
pity. 

But  Ensign  Bentley  was  not  to  be  put  off  with 
rechauffes.  "  Crambe  repetita"  was  not  to  his  taste- 
He  was  out  to  see  the  world ;  and  metaphorically 
he  still  wore  his  hat  slightly  on  one  side,  and  carried 
a  little  cane  in  the  pocket  of  his  lounging-coat. 
He  had  almost  forgotten  his  own  neighbourhood, 
where  his  father  kept  a  moderate  pack  of  hounds  in 
a  difficult  country,  somewhere  in  the  West  of 
England ;  and  had  condescended  to  come  to  Lea- 
mington at  that  excellent  sportsman's  expense,  who 


250        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATIIETl  AXD  SOX. 

found  him  two  liorses,  and  desired  him  to  see  liow 
they  did  tliino:s  in  the  Midland  Counties.  Ensirrn 
Bentlev,  or  the  "  Captain,"  as  the  maids  called  the 
young  man  at  home,  had  a  very  good  opinion  of 
himself ;  indeed,  he  was  a  great  card  at  Lea- 
mington amonoj  tlic  ladies,  at  the  Reo;ent,  over  the 
billiard-table,  and  across  a  counter;  so  that  the 
dinner  to  which  Frank  Beauclerc  had  victimised 
himself  was  not  so  bad  as  might  have  been  ex- 
pected. 

Fairfax  had  been  in  a  drao-oon  reo;iment :  was  of 
a  certain  age :  had  long  sold  out ;  but  retained  a 
cheerful  bowing  or  hail-fellow-well-met  sort  of  ac- 
quaintance with  the  whole  of  the  British  Army.  If 
he  had  any  better  dinner  or  company  in  prospect 
than  that  of  Bentley,  he  would  not  have  been 
there ;  as  it  was,  his  virtue  was  rewarded  by 
meeting  Frank  Beauclerc,  whom  he  already  knew 
and  esteemed ;  and  the  good  opinion  of  such  a 
valuable  public  servant  ought  to  have  been  highly 
flattering  to  our  hero. 

"  What  do  youjdrink,  Beauclerc  ?  "  said  Bentley, 


JUST  JOINED .  251 

with  tlie  aplomb  of  a  general  officer  on  a  volunteer 
review-day. 

''  Claret,  if  you  please.  Just  put  it  before  tlie 
fire  a  moment."     He  did  so. 

Fairfax  was  warming  his  in  his  hand. 

^' What  brought  you  to  this  place,  Bentley?  I 
thought  you  were  bound  to  whip  in  to  youi'  go- 
vernor, if  you  got  leave,"  said  Frank. 

"  Oh  !  no  man  alive  could  stand  that  comitry. 
Besides,  the  governor  took  to  mounting  me  on  the 
servants'  horses  at  last.  Impossible  to  stand  that, 
you  know." 

"  I  suppose  not ;  there's  a  great  difference  be- 
tween the  value  of  a  good  huntsman  and  an  ensign 
in  the  Hundred  and  Ninety-first."  Bentley  had  an 
idea  he  was  beino;  chaffed,  but  he  onlv  lauo-hed  and 
helped  himself  to  the  claret. 

"  And  who  is  there  here  ?  "  said  Frank,  again. 
"  Any  one  I  know  ?  " 

^'  Let's  see :  there's  General  Blazer  and  the 
girls,  and  Fred  Bubbleton  and  old  Sir  Patrick 
Macfussell  and  his  niece.     You  recollect  the  ]Mac- 


252        THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

fussells,  Bcauclerc?  tliey  had  that  liousc  on  the 
Portbridge  road,  on  the  right-hand  side  out  of 
Lymmersfield."  Frank  looked  oblivious.  He 
hadn't  got  to  his  point  yet ;  but  he  drank  on  in 
hope  of  doing  so. 

"  Don't  you  recollect  they  used  to  sit  just  in 
front  of  the  Mannings  in  church  ;  a  girl  with  red 
eyes  and  brown  hair — no — I  mean  brown  eyes 
and  red  hair?"  No;  Frank  had  forgotten  her; 
such  beauty  had  not  made  an  impression,  or  he 
was  preoccupied.     At  last  it  came. 

"  Oh  !  and,  Beauclerc,  who  do  you.  think  w^as  at 
the  hospital  ball  the  other  night  ?  Why,  Violet 
Carloss  and  ^Madame  Rosenfels." 

"  Keally :  and  what  had  she  to  say  for  her- 
self ?" 

"  Why,  she  asked  after  our  fellows,  you  know. 
I  think  she  mentioned  you."  Frank  felt  savage. 
"No,  now  I  think  of  it,  I  remember  she  did 
not."  Frank  thought  this  a  bad  sign ;  in  reality  it 
Avas  a  good  one.  But  then  he  was  inexperienced 
in  the  ways  [of  woman.     "  But  Fairfax  can  tell 


JUST  JOINED.  253 

YOU  more  about  her  than  I  can.  He  danced  half  a 
dozen  times  with  her  while  she  was  here ;  it's 
more  in  his  way;"  and  here  the  junior  ensign 
spread  out  his  feet  before  the  fire,  and  assumed  a 
man-of-the-world  sort  of  look,  which  suited  re- 
markably ill  with  short  light  hair  of  the  regulation 
cut,  and  the  smallest  soiipcon  of  down  on  his  upper 
lip.     Frank  turned  to  Fairfax,  who  said  : 

"  What !  do  you  know  the  Carloss  ?  By  Jove, 
what  a  beautiful  girl !  What  eyelashes  they  are, 
to  be  sure.  What  an  odd  thing,  too,  we  were 
talking  about  your  fellows  ;  she  knows  Tom  Dash- 
wood  and  Charlie  Ryder,  and  one  or  two  others. 
The  old  woman  kept  a  pretty  sharp  look-out; 
wouldn't  have  'em  at  any  price,  I  can  tell  you. 
That  fellow  Dashwood  was  going  it  tremendously." 

^'Was  he?  Not  a  bad  fellow,  Dashwood!" 
Frank  was  forced  to  say  something. 

"  No ;  and  he'll  be  old  Tremencourt's  heir ;  I 
shouldn't  wonder  if  there's  something  up  in  that 
quarter.  She'd  never  be  such  a  fool  as  to  refuse 
him.     She  shut  up  young  Lionel  Cotton,  the  Man- 


25-4        TUE  BEAUCLEIICS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

Chester  swell,  most  splendidly.  He  was  awfully 
sweet  on  lier :  and  he  thinks  nobody  can  say  '  no ' 
to  eighteen  thousand  a  year."  Beauclerc  was 
getting  interested. 

"Ah!  how  was  that?"  Frank  lit  a  cigar,  and 
smoked  rather  savagely. 

"  Well,  he's  a  way  of  staring,  you  know ;  I  don't 
think  he  means  anything,  but  he's  a  deuce  of  a 
fellow  to  stare,  you  know." 

"  Confound  his  impudence,"  said  Frank,  biting 
the  end  of  one  of  Mr.  Carlin's  very  best  regalias, 
at  four  guineas  a  pound. 

"  Ah  !  he's  not  a  bad  fellow,  though  ;  but,  I  sup- 
pose, she  didn't  like  it,  and  said,  ^I  hope  you'll 
know  me  again,  Mr.  Cotton.'  Deuced  cool,  wasn't 
it?" 

"  Eather  so,'^  said  Bentley.  Frank  said  nothing : 
but  he  knew  pretty  well  how  she  would  have  saiel 
it,  unless  she  was  much  altered. 

"  So  Cotton  said,  ^  I'm  sure  I  may  ask  the  same 
question,  Miss  Carloss  ? '  " 

"  Did  he  ?     I  wish  I'd  been  behind  him." 


JUST  JOINED.  255 

"  Yes  he  did ;  and  what  do  you  tliink  she  said  ? 
"Why,  she  said,  '  Yes,  Mr.  Cotton,  and  I'll  answer 
it.  I  hope  you'll  be  so  much  improved  in  your 
manners  that  I  shan't  know  you  at  all.'  Cotton 
shut  up  for  an  hour  or  two.  But  I  think  it's  a 
pretty  clear  case  with  Tom  Dashwood.*' 

The  conversation  then  took  a  general  turn. 
Fairfax  was  very  communicative,  and  tolerably  well 
up  in  Leamington  scandals.  Frank  was  not  sorry 
when  the  time  came  to  wish  them  good  night : 
which  he  did  in  the  middle  of  an  interestino'  narra- 

o 

tive  of  '^  unefemme  compiise^^  a  foreign  Marchioness 
who  was  supposed  to  be  pining  from  an  unrequited 
attachment  to  ^Ii\  Fairfax  himself. 

After  breakfast  the  next  morning  he  went  on 
leave  for  fom'  or  five  days,  and  by  dinner-time  he 
was  at  Lymmersfield  :  a  sudden  recognition  of  his 
obligations  towards  his  old  tutor  and  his  tutor's 
wife  sucro-ested   the   visit    before   his    chanire    of 

CO  o 

quarters. 

They  were  delighted  to  see  him — who  ever  was 
not  ? — and  he  dined  heartily  on  something  plainer 


25G         THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

but  not  less  excellent  than  Salmi  aux  jierdrir 
and  cliampagne !  lie  did  ample  justice  to  the 
South  Down  mutton  and  Burgundy,  which  his  old 
tutor  put  before  him.  lie  had  asked  after  pretty 
nearly  everybody  in  the  village,  but  he  had  not  yet 
mustered  courage  to  inquire  for  Violet. 

"  Why  shouldn't  IT'  thought  he :  but  he  never 
did.  At  last  Colville  left  the  room  ;  and  while 
Mrs.  Colville  worked  away  at  an  antimacassar,  he 
ventured  to  inquire  for  her.  ^len  are  always 
bolder  with  women  on  such  subjects. 

"  I  thought  you'd  forgotten  her  quite,  Frank. 
It's  such  a  time  since  you  were  here." 

"  Forgotten  her ;    oh  no  !      Certainly  not    that 

—  only — only — you  see — I "    here  he  stuck 

fast,  and  Mrs.  Colville  did  not  come  to  the  rescue. 
She  continued  her  crochet-work,  and  looked  pro- 
vokingly  quiet  and  handsome.  She  thought  Frank 
was  capricious,  and  it  disappointed  her. 

"  I  suppose  I  shall  see  her  to-morrow,"  added  he, 
making  the  remark  in  as  common-place  a  tone  of 
voice  as  he  well  could. 

"  I  suppose    not,    Frank.      They     came  home 


JUST  JOINED.  257 

tlie  day  before  yesterday,  and  went  to  Brighton 
this  afternoon.  Madame  has  let  her  house 
ao'ain." 

"Brio-hton  !"  Then  the  mischief  was  out :  and 
they  were  gone  down  at  Tom  Dashwood's  sugges- 
tion. He  forgot  that  Tom  didn't  know  the  route 
the  ]ast  time  he  coukl  have  seen  her.  It  wasn't 
out  till  the  day  after.  He  swallowed  his  tea  spas- 
modically :  and  then  befian  to  think  with  a  book 
before  him.  Four  daj's  in  this  confounded  place 
without  her ! 

The  next  day  he  borrowed  Colville's  hack.  I 
am  not  romantic  myself,  but  I  can  formve  Frank 
for  haying  ridden  round  the  bank  of  the  lake  from 
which  he  had  helped  to  rescue  poor  Violet.  Surely 
she  couldn't  have  forgotten  him  ! 

And  what  did  Frank  in  his  solitary  ride? 
Well,  he  thought  not  very  kindly  of  that  ass 
Dashwood.  Then  he  wondered  whether  it  would 
not  have  been  as  well  that  the  waters  of  the  lake 
had  closed  over  them  both  for  ever.  But  he  was 
just  enough  to  know  that  this  world  is  not  so  rich  in 

YOL.  I.  S 


258         THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

loveliness  and  innocence  as  to  have  easily  spared 
Violet.  "  To  die  old  is  only  to  separate  for  a  short 
time;  to  be  separated  young  is  to  die  indeed." 
Frank  was  half  a  sentimentalist,  for  which  I  like 
him :  but  he  was  a  man  of  action,  too,  for  wliicli  I 
like  him  still  better.  There  and  then  he  deter- 
mined to  play  out  the  game,  and  to  go  with  his 
regiment  to  Brighton. 

In  the  mean  time  dinner  awaited  him  at  Lym- 
mersfield.  Heaven  knows,  he  cared  nothing  about 
dinner  that  day.  But  Mrs.  Colville  was  a  friend  in 
need,  and  it  was  a  comfort  to  have  some  one  to 
whom  to  open  his  heart :  and  when  she  saw  the 
wound,  surely  she  could  pour  in  oil  and  wine. 

"  Frank,  you're  not  happy,"  said  that  lady  after 
dinner  on  that  day,  when  Colville  had  retired 
to  his  study.  "  Can  I  be  of  any  service  to 
you?" 

Indeed  she  could,  of  the  greatest,  and  he  told 
her  so. 

"  Mrs.  Colville,  you  think  me  very  odd,  I  dare 
say?" 


JUST  JOINED.  259 

'^  iSTot  at  all.  Only  as  capricious  as  other  people, 
whicli  I  did  not  think  yon." 

"  Then  help  me  out  of  a  difficulty.  I've  been 
to  the  lake  at  St.  Hilda's." 

"  So  I  should  have  guessed,  and  a  less  far-sighted 
person  might  have  done  so." 

''  Indeed,  why  so  ? "  and  Frank  looked  eagerly 
for  a  solution  which  would  have  saved  him  an  ex- 
planation. 

"  Because  I  saw  Harry's  pony's  legs  were  adorned 
with  the  red  clay  peculiar  to  that  district."  This 
was  scarcely  the  answer  he  expected. 

"  Now  you're  laughing  at  me." 

^'And  do  you  not  deserve  it?  Yiolet  Carloss 
has  been  round  that  lake  fifty  times  to  your  once. 
Now  you  must  make  a  confidante  of  me." 

"Ah  !  you  guess  my  secret,  I  see." 

"  It  ought  to  be  no  secret,  unless  she  shares  it 
with  you.  I  can't  tell  how  that  may  be."  Was 
this  not  justifiable  fishing  under  the  circum- 
stances ? 

"  You  know,  Tve  had  so  few  opportunities." 
s  2 


260    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

"Opportunities  are  made  by  sensible  men. 
There !  don't  go,"  for  Frank  exhibited  some  signs 
of  retreating.  And  before  Colville  rejoined  them, 
he  made  up  his  mind  to  go  to  Brighton.  Women 
are  the  best  doctors  for  heart-complaint. 


261 


CHAPTER  XIY. 

A    TEAXSPLANTATION. 

Coelum,  non  auimiim,  mutant  qui  trans  mare  currmit.— HoR. 

EvEEAED  Beaucleec,  tlie  father  of  Frank,  was 
a  remarkable-looking  man  at  the  time  ^ve  speak  of. 
He  was  remarkably  handsome  in  the  first  place. 
He  was  pale,  without  being  sallow,  which  latter 
many  of  our  Indian  officers  and  civilians  are  after 
a  lengthened  sojourn  in  that  climate.  He  was 
scarcely  to  be  called  dark.  His  hair  was  brown 
and  unchanged  in  colour.  His  eyes  were  gi'ey,  but 
the  length  and  colour  of  the  lashes  gave  them  a 
depth  and  earnestness  which  they  might  otherwise 


262    THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

have  wanted.  His  nose  was  straight  and  well 
formed,  and  his  moutli  ratlier  full,  but  with  hand- 
some and  regular  teeth,  which  he  showed  when  he 
smiled.  He  wore  a  long  and  drooping  moustache, 
without  beard ;  and  his  whiskers  were  thin  and 
straight  in  line,  but  wavy  and  silken  in  substance. 
In  fact,  his  face  had  that  clean  European  look 
which  was  successfully  achieved  by  cavalry  officers 
of  a  past  date.  He  was  slight  and  tall,  fully  six 
feet  high  :  but  his  shoulders  were  broad  and  flat, 
and  his  figure  sloped  gracefully  down,  triangularly, 
to  his  feet,  giving  his  flanks  that  unmistakable 
promise  of  joint  activity  and  strength  so  peculiarly 
English.  He  was  really  forty-five  years  of  age, 
with  an  appearance  at  least  ten  years  younger. 

He  often  smiled,  whether  to  show  his  teeth  or 
his  disposition  I  cannot  tell :  probably,  from  both 
causes.  His  friends  had  rarely  seen  him  out  of 
temper,  his  acquaintances  never. 

To  physiognomists  his  face  was  pre-eminently 
that  of  one  who  never  said  ^'  No  "  to  himself  or 
others.     He  was  self-indulgent,  and  facile  of  tem- 


A  TEAXSPLAXTATIOX.  263 

per;  a  not  unfrequent  combination,  though,  at  first 
sight,  somewhat  anomalous.  There  was  talent, 
too,  in  his  broad  white  forehead,  and  coui'age ; 
but  it  was  rather  the  courage  of  impulse  and 
physique  than  that  of  stern  self-reliance  and  high 
principle.  Generous  he  was,  for  it  w^as  painful  to 
him  to  be  otherwise  :  and  he  was  not  indifferent  to 
the  reputation  which  is  acquired  by  occasional 
great  sacrifices  at  the  expense  of  many  petty  negli- 
gences of  that  virtue. 

It  is  a  great  thing  to  be  able  to  say  ''  No  "  in 
the  right  place.  It  entails  a  victory  over  self, 
which  is  far  greater  than  a  victory  over  many 
cities.  Colonel  Beauclerc  had  never  attained  to 
that  degree  of  generalship.  He  had  had  his  mo- 
ments of  good  resolution,  but  had  always  capitulated 
when  the  enemy  presented  himself  in  a  specious 
form.  He  vs'as  too  fond  of  treating  resolution,  and 
his  resolution  never  rejected  the  bribe. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  from  this  that  Everard 
Beauclerc  Avas  a  dishonourable  man.  Nothinc;  of 
the  sort.     He  would  have  fought  a  duel,  had  it  lain 


264    THE  LEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

in  his  way,  as  Falstaff  would  have  picked  up 
honour.  He  could  not  have  said,  "No."  He 
would  have  paid  a  debt,  if  he  had  stripped  himself 
of  his  last  farthing,  for  he  could  not  have  said 
"No."  But  then  the  creditor  must  have  pre- 
sented himself  as  the  first  claimant,  or  the  farthiuL^ 
would  have  gone  in  charity  or  a  cheroot.  He 
would  not  have  defrauded  his  neighbour  of  a 
pleasure,  an  appointment,  a  rupee ;  but  he  would 
not  have  been  equally  particular  about  his  wife : 
always  provided  that  she  was  handsome,  weak, 
and  had  fallen  in  his  way.  He  could  scarcely  be 
called  actively  vicious  ;  for  he  never  jumped  the 
rails  which  hedges  in  virtue  while  the  ordinary 
road  was  open  to  him  and  equally  pleasant.  This 
disposition  gives  a  man  false  notions  of  honour 
and  honesty,  and  the  world  is  apt  to  endorse  the 
bill  which  he  draws  upon  it  at  sight. 

He  had  been  brought  up  in  a  school  calculated 
to  encourage,  or  rather  not  to  restrain,  the  vices  of 
a  haughty  and  chivalrous  temperament,  not  to 
stimulate  its  virtues.  He  had  been  taught  to 
make   the    world   his   idol.     Like    manv   men    of 


A  TEAXSPLAXTATIOX.  265 

naturally  good  feelings,  lie  worslii2:)ped  it  with  a 
divided  worship — the  worship  rather  of  habit  than 
of  heart.  I  think  if  he  had  been  blessed  with  a 
snnb  nose,  bad  teeth,  and  a  large  stomach,  and 
had  been  early  marked  with  the  small-pox,  he 
would  have  been  a  crood  man.  As  it  was,  he  was 
a  singularly  popular  one,  with  faults  that  never 
impeded  his  advancement. 

When  he  was  young,  religion  in  schools  meant 
one  of  two  things  :  a  lofty  aspiration  beyond  the 
intelligence  of  boyhood,  and  quite  impracticable 
amongst  its  duties  and  its  pleasures ;  or  an  ultra- 
asceticism  sure  to  be  condemned  and  kicked  at 
by  high  spirits  and  fashionable  scholarship.  The 
consequence  was  a  moderate  indifference,  which 
laucrhed  at  nothino-  and  cared  for  nothinor.  It 
pervaded  masters  as  well  as  boys  ;  and  all  that 
was  good  and  great  vacillated  between  a  Pericles 
and  a  Plato.  He  went  to  church  and  said  his 
prayers  to  please  his  mother  ;  but  his  firmest 
belief  was  in  his  talent  for  short  whist  and  his 
high  connexions. 

Frank  was,  in  many  respects,  like  his   father  ; 


2GG 

but  that  blank  paper,  of  Avliicli  philosophers  speak, 
had  been  early  impressed  in  a  better  school.  He 
had  had  the  opportunity  of  learning  that  boys 
should  be  honourable  from  some  higher  motive 
than  high  birth ;  that  there  were  more  kinds  of 
courage  than  one,  and  more  principles  of  action 
tlian  position  in  society.  lie  had  been  tauglit 
tliis  from  his  earliest  years,  and  had  seen  it  acted 
upon  by  Dr.  Armstrong  and  those  in  whom  lie 
reposed  confidence.  The  curse  of  former  pubhc 
education  in  fashionable  society  was  this :  that 
men  became  good  in  spite  of  false  premises,  or 
taxed  all  their  energies  only  to  become  great. 

Everard  Beauclerc  sat  in  the  verandah  of  a 
handsome  house  in  that  city  of  palaces,  Calcutta. 
It  was  detached,  built  of  brick,  and  stuccoed.  It 
looked  towards  the  north.  It  was  not  hot,  but  the 
air  was  soft  and  mild,  and  the  Colonel  smoked  his 
cheroot  and  thought  of  many  things.  The  ground 
story  was  unused,  and  he  occasionally  listened  to 
hear  the  sound  of  wheels  which  miglit  enter  the 
spacious  porte  cochere  beneath  the  pillared  porcli 


A  TEAXSPLANTATIOK. 


267 


and  covered  yard,  which  belonged  to  the  base- 
ment of  his  house.  He  watched  the  craft  on  the 
river,  here  a  rapid  stream  of  a  mile  broad,  with 
the  steamers  paddling  up  to  the  quay.  The  busy 
hum  of  voices  came  to  him  with  the  soft  sea 
breeze,  and  the  sounds  of  the  life  that  passed  to 
and  fro  on  the  ^^Coui'se"  was  borne  to  him  with 
a  pleasant  murmur. 

At  present  he  waited  for  his  friend  Mr.  Finney, 
the  junior  partner  in  a  great  banking  firm  in 
Calcutta.  He  arrived  at  last;  an  hour  after  his 
time.  The  flush  of  business  was  upon  his  brow 
as  he  stepped  out  of  his  carriage  and  came 
up-stairs. 

'^  My  dear  Colonel,  I  am  come  in  person  to  an- 
swer your  note,  as  I  told  you  I  would." 

Mr.  Finney's  person  was  not  such  as  one  would 
have  desired  especially  to  have  come.  However, 
here  he  was,  and  as  the  business  was  important, 
and  the  Colonel  merely  offered  him  a  seat  in  the 
verandah  and  a  cheroot,  we  need  say  no  more 
about  it. 


2G8    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATEER  AND  SON. 

"  Thank  yon,  Finney ;  it's  very  good  of  yon  to 
come.  I  really  feel  qnite  a  lassitude.  I  suppose 
it's  this  confounded  climate." 

*^Xo  one  ought  to  be  less  hard  upon  it  than 
you.  You  look  as  young  as  you  did  twenty 
years  ago." 

Finney  was  a  cunning-looking  person,  small- 
eyed,  long-nosed,  with  a  serpent-like  figure  that 
might  have  penetrated  and  coiled  itself  round  the 
profoundest  depths  of  a  man's  heart.  His  object 
at  present  was  to  fascinate :  it  was  his  worst 
point.  So  he  smoked  the  Colonel's  cheroot,  notwith- 
standing that  it  made  him  a  little  uncomfortable. 

"  Do  I  really,  Finney?    I  don't  feel  so." 

''  You  do,  indeed.  The  climate  agrees  with  you 
wonderfully.  You  ought  to  stop  out  here  and 
become  a  millionnaire." 

"  A  mummy  you  mean,  my  good  fellow.     Xo, 

no :    I've  arranged  my  affairs,  and,   as  I  said,  I 

must  realise.  I've  put  the  business  into  Sharker  and 

Flint's  hands,  and  they  must  see  me  through  it." 

Sharker  and  Flint   were  just   the   people   that 


A  TFiAXSPLAXTATIOX.  269 

!Mr.    Finiiev   did    not    care   to   reco^'iiise    in    the 
Colonel's  affairs  just  tlien. 

'-  You  mio'lit  be  a  millionnaire  a  few  vears 
lience,  Beauclerc — a  millionnaire,  and  still  a  young 
man."     Finney  rubbed  his  nose  thoughtfully. 

^'  A  millionnaii'e  ^Yithout  a  liver  is  not  so  good 
as  a  goose  with  one." 

'•And  after  all,"  continued  the  financier,  ap- 
pearing to  commune  with  himself,  but  aloud, 
"  what  a  pittance  in  England  is  a  few  thousands 
a  year  to  a  man  of  such  taste,   such  refinementj 

such  capabilities  for  enjoyment,  such " 

''  That's  just  the  reason.  I  want  to  go  while  I 
have  those  capabilities  of  enjoyment,  and  not  when 
I'm  dried  up,  worn  out,  and  miserable.  Besides, 
you're  such  a  nabob,  my  dear  Finney.  \Miat's 
your  idea  of  a  pittance  ?  You  bankers  must  have 
had  a  fine  time  of  it." 

"  Indeed  we  have ;  and  that's  why  I  should 
recommend  you  to  think  twice  before  you  draw 
your  money  out  of  the  Anglo-Banian  Bank.  One 
hundred  and  fifty-three  thousand  pounds  will  be 


270    THE  BEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

found  to  be  something  less  than  one  million  one 
hundred  and  fifty-three  thousand  rupees." 

"  Let's  call  it  a  hundred  and  fifty." 

''  Let's  call  it  what  it  is.  Your  friends  Sharker 
and  Flint  will,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Well,  it's  enough  to  live  upon,  at  all  events." 

''•  Not  as  you  live.  Let  me  see.  At  three  per 
cent.,  with  the  funds  at  par,  that  will  l)e  just 
four  thousand " 

"  There,  never  mind  that  :  have  another  che- 
root." 

^'  On  no  account ;  no,  thank  you,"  said  Finney, 
who  was  more  at  home  with  his  Colenso  than  his 
tobacco ;  ^'  on  no  account.  But,  as  I  was  saying, 
four  thousand  five  hundred  a  year  is  no  great 
income  to  begin  upon  in  England.  To  be 
sure,  there's  your  uncle's  estate,  which  may  be 
worth " 

''  The  Jews  have  had  the  best  -oart  of  it  lonir 
ago.  It's  let  on  a  lease,  or  I'd  go  and  live  at  the 
place  myself,  and  take  the  hounds." 

"Take  the  hounds!"    said   old    Finney,    with 


A  TEAXSPLAXTATION.  271 

a  Stare,  his  own  profligacy  lying  qnite  in  a  dif- 
ferent direction  to  dogs  and  horses. 

"  Yes ;  why  not  ?  I  suppose  I'm  not  so  infirm 
vet  as  not  to  be  able  to  ride." 

"Oh!  it's  not  the  riding,  it's  the  money  I'm 
thinking  of." 

"You  don't  mean  to  say  that  a  man  with  a 
hmuked  and  fifty  thousand  pounds  and  a  place  in 
the  country,  which  must  produce  something,  can't 
be  master  of  a  pack  of  fox-hounds  ?  " 

"I  know  nothing  about  hounds;  but  I  should 
think  not,  when  he  only  gets  three  per  cent,  for  it. 
We've  allowed  you  seven,  and  you  have  contrived 
occasionally  to  overdraw." 

There  is  no  denying  the  facts  of  Mr.  Finne}', 
nor  the  extravagance  of  the  Colonel's  hfe,  who 
would  have  managed  to  spend  any  sum  of  money 
that  could  be  placed  at  his  disposal.  In  a  capital 
remarkable  for  its  luxuries  and  waste,  Everard 
Beauclerc  was  running  the  wealthiest  Europeans 
or  natives  close  for  first  place. 

The  Colonel  understood  the  position  in  which 


272    THE  EEAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 


Finney's  statistics  liad  placed  him,  and  meditated, 
proba-bly  as  much  as  ho  ever  had  meditated,  al)oiit 
money  matters.  Mr.  Finney  pushed  his  advances. 
"  And  you  give  up  your  appointment,  too,  and 
retire  upon  half-pay  ?  " 

^'  Of  course ;"  and  tlie  Colonel  pulled  his  mous- 
tache into  his  mouth,  and  held  the  end  of  it 
between  his  lips,  with  him  an  unfailing  sign  of 
profundity. 

"  Why  not  leave  the  money,  if  you  must  go, 
and  draw  upon  us  for  your  income  at  sight  ? 
Nothing  easier :  a  thing  done  every  day." 

'^  Do  you  remember  me  when  I  first  married  : 
three  or  four  and  twenty  years  ago  ?  I  was  very 
young,  and  married  imprudently,  people  said. 
They  said  so  in  England :  but  I  didn  t  think  so. 
Well !  I  had  thirty  thousand  pounds  then,  only — 
it  wasn't  much,  to  be  sure — but  it  was  all ;  and  it 
was  in  the  hands  of  one  of  your  great  houses  : 
Snatchem's.  I  didn't  get  much  of  it  back,  as  you 
may  suppose." 

"  Three  shillings  in  the  pound,"    said  Finney, 


A  TRANSPLANTATION.  273 

with  a  pious  ejaculation  on  the  wickedness  of 
mankind  m  general  and  bankers  in  particular. 
"  After  all,  they  were  but  adventurers  from  Liver- 
pool or  Manchester." 

"  I  did  not  ask  what  they  were ;  but  I  woke  one 
fine  morning,  and  went  out  shooting  with  Jennyns 
and  Goldicott.  They  didn't  know  that  I  had  any- 
thing to  do  Tvith  it ;  but  mentioned  the  failure  at 
luncheon.  It  was  only  for  two  millions  three  hun- 
dred thousand.  That  was  a  trifle  after  Alexander's, 
you  know." 

"What  did  you  do?"  said  old  Finney,  wonder- 
ino;  in  liis  own  mind  what  his  friend  would  do  if 
he  had  just  now  such  a  pleasant  piece  of  intelli- 
gence to  announce. 

"  WeU !  it  rather  upset  me,  and  I  missed  the 
first  small  deer  after  tiffin  ;  but  it  made  me  dread- 
fully savage ;  and  in  the  afternoon  I  shot  a  tiger, 
and  won  fom-teen  hundred  of  Bungalow  at  ecarte. 
One  can't  do  much  with  fom^teen  hundred ;  but 
it's  better  than  nothing." 

]\Ir.  Finney  thought  it  was.     "  Those  were  awk- 

VOL.  I.  T 


274 

ward  times  for  young  men.  Tlie  merchants  and 
bankers  were  most  improvident,  reckless  in  their 
way  of  trading.  They  speculated  in  all  sorts  of 
things." 

"Speculated!"  said  Beauclerc,  regarding  the 
loss  at  a  distance  as  rather  a  joke,  "I  believe  you ; 
I  don't  know  what  I  was  not  a  holder  of.  Indigo, 
silk,  cotton,  raw  sugars — what  the  d — 1  are  tliey  ? — 
and  monkey-skins  ;  and  then  down  they  came  upon 
us.  I  don't  think  Snatchem  was  much  the  worse 
for  it.  He  sold  his  race-horses  ;  but  he  continued 
to  live  and  give  dinners,  much  as  usual.  I 
remember  his  horses,  for  I  bought  one  of  'em 
myself :  ^  a  thorough-bred  one,  by  the  King  of 
Oude.'  " 

Finney  opened  his  eyes  at  this  very  singular 
mode  of  retrenchment.  "I  gave  a  hundred  so- 
vereigns for  him,  and  won  the  Nizam's  Cup,  worth 
at  least  two  thousand  rupees,  and  about  twenty 
thousand  more  in  bets ;  so  that  spec  answered 
better  than  raw  sugar  and  monkeys'  tails,  you 
see." 


A  TRANSPLANTATION.  275 

"  Yours  has  been  a  curious  life,  Colonel.  How- 
ever, you're  pretty  safe  now." 

"  By  Jove !  I  hope  so.  When  my  uncle  died  a 
few  years  after,  it  quite  set  me  up.  Ah !  poor  dear 
Florence  :  she  didn't  live  to  see  it.  I've  had  some 
lucky  coups  since  then.  And  you  think  I  could 
do  best  by  leaving  the  money  in  your  hands  ?  " 

"My  dear  Colonel,  what's  the  difference  be- 
tween four  thousand  five  hundi'ed  and  ten  thou- 
sand five  hunch'ed  ?  " 

"  Well,  you  know  best,  I  dare  say.  It's  a  good 
deal  of  money,  as  you  say." 

"  And  as  safe  as  the  Bank  of  England." 

"  That's  just  what  they  said  of  Alexander's — and 
of  Snatchem — and  the  rest  of  them — but  they  all 
came  to  grief." 

"  But  what  a  different  state  of  things  !  Look  at 
the  lives  they  led!  the  extravagance,  the  immo- 
rahty,  the  insane  speculation,  the  gambling " 

"  Very  likely,  Finney ;  but  you  don't  mean  to 
say  there  are  no  more  cakes  and  ale  because 
Snatchem's  gone,  and  you  stand?" 


276    THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

"  There  was  a  general  demoralisation  of  Indian 
society  at  tlie  time  you  speak  of,  shocking  to  con- 
template ;"  and  the  banker  looked  piously  horiified. 
Everard  Beauclerc  seemed  rather  entertained,  and 
replied : 

"  Yes !  to  be  sure  tliere  "was  :  they  were  no 
worse  than  their  creditors,  at  all  events,  in  those 
respects,  you  know.  To  be  sure,  they  added  robbery 
to  their  abnegation  of  the  rest  of  the  Decalogue ; 
but  then  it  was  on  a  grand  scale  ;  and  the  Bank- 
ruptcy Court,  like  society,  pardons  vice  on  a  large 
scale  with  a  magnanimity  she  never  uses  towards 
minor  infirmities.  Poor  old  Snatchem !  I'm  glad 
he  went  on  again.  His  son's  one  of  the  aides-de- 
camp at  Government  House." 

"  Ah !  my  dear  Colonel  Beauclerc,  you  make  a 
joke  of  everjrthing ;  you  always  did  ;  but  in  those 
days  we  lived  over  a  volcano,  and  when  it  burst 
it  spread  ruin  far  and  wide.  Think  of  the  widow 
and  orphan ^" 

"  And  of  the  unhappy  subaltern,  who  got  nothing 
out  of  it  but  a  hundred-guinea  screw " 

"  Ha !  ha !  it's  no  use  talking  to  you  now  :  we 


A  TEANSPLANTATION.  277 

must  have  this  matter  over  seriously  another  time. 
If  we  can  set  you  up  in  England  with  ten  thou- 
sand a  year,  Colonel,  with  your  opportunities  you 
may  be  anything.  You  may  have  all  the  packs 
of  dogs  in  Newmarket,  and  your  boy  —  bless 
my  heart! — ^you  may  return  him  for  the  county. 
Think  of  that:  young  Frank,  member  for  the 
county." 

This  was  a  chord  to  which  the  Colonel  always 
responded.  "  Well,  I  suppose  it  would  be  a  great 
advantage.  I  think  nothing  more  need  be  done 
in  the  matter  till  I  see  Sharker  and  Flint." 

"D — n  Sharker  and  Flint,"  said  the  pious 
banker  as  he  went  down-stairs,  and  met  Captain 
Jennyns  coming  up. 

"  So  you  really  mean  going  next  month,  Beau- 
clerc,  do  you  ?  "  said  the  Captain. 

"  Well !  you  see,  I  had  made  up  my  mind, 
but " 

"  So  you  had  three  years  ago,  when  your  boy 
was  first  gazetted.  It's  more  than  an  even  bet  you 
don't  go  now."  And  the  Captain  stroked  his 
moustache. 


278        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATIIEK  AND  SOX. 

"  Indeed  I  must.  I  mean  to  go ;  but  I  want 
to  settle  some  money  matters.  Tliere's  old  Finney ; 
'pon  my  soul,  I  think  that  fellow's  a  rascal  with 
that  Anglo-Banian  bank  of  his :  he's  been  here, 
and  I've  given  my  lawyers  orders  to  get  my  account 
out  of  his  hand,  and  put  everything  straight  be- 
tween us." 

When  Jennyns  heard  of  Mr.  Finney's  visit  and 
the  Anslo-Banian  Bank,  his  face  turned  a  shade 
paler  than  usual ;  and  he  blew  a  prolonged  whistle. 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  now  ? "  said  the 
Colonel. 

"  If  it's  not  impertinent,  old  fellow,  may  I  ask 
what  you  consider  the  amount  of  your  property  of 
one  sort  or  another  in  that  concern  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  may,  Charlie.  I've  just  heard,  one 
hundred  and  fifty-three  thousand  pounds  some 
shillings ;  and  what  the  devil  to  do  with  the  odd 
three  thousand  I'm  sure  I  can't  tell." 

"  Don't  let  that  trouble  you ;  come  with  me." 
They  were  soon  in  the  Captain's  carriage,  and 
driving  along  the  Course,  where  nods  and  signs  of 
recognition  gi-eeted  them  constantly. 


A  TRANSPLANTATION.  279 

"  The  sooner  you're  out  of  this  concern  the 
better  for  you,  Beauclerc.  Sharker  and  Flint  are 
bad  enough ;  but  that's  a  harbour  of  refuge  com- 
pared to  the  Anglo-Banian  business." 

"  I've  ordered  Sharker  to  get  the  affair  wound 
up  a  month  ago."  The  Colonel  did  not  say  that  he 
had  just  been  about  rescinding  the  order.  That 
sort  of  reticence  was  so  like  him. 

"  We'll  stir  up  old  Sharker  at  once,  then.  I  don't 
like  your  Anglo-Indian  friends.  Report  just  now 
doesn't  speak  highly  of  them." 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say " 

''  I  don't  mean  to  sa}'  anything  ;  but  we'll  go 
and  see  how  matters  stand  ;''  and  they  were  soon  in 
the  office  of  Messrs.  Sharker  and  Flint.  Sharker 
Avas  enjoying  himself  in  the  cool  of  the  day.  Flint 
was  at  home.  A  sharp,  hard-featured  little  man, 
who  looked  a  match  for  any  number  of  cavalry 
officers,  and  a  banker  into  the  bargain. 

"  Well,  Flint,  what  have  you  done  about  my 
business  ?  " 

"  What,  Mr.  Finney  and  the  banking  concern  if 
Why,  he's  just  gone;  came  here  to  rescind  the 


280        THE  BEAUCLERCS,  FATHER  AND  SON. 

order  for  transmission  to  England ;  but  we  want 
your  signatui'e  to  the  power  of  attorney,  before 
w^e  can  do  anything."     Finney  had  lost  no  time. 

"  How  soon  can  the  business  be  settled  ? "  said 
Jennyns,  who  was  a  good-looking,  wiry  sort  of 
man,  with  a  quick  imperious  manner,  highly  au- 
thoritative wdien  backed  by  money  and  right. 

"  As  soon  as  the  Colonel  likes ;  now,  if  he  pleases ; 
but  if  he's  going  to  rescind  the  order,  it  doesn't 
signify.  No  importance  at  all.  We'll  stop  the 
proceedings,  and  the  thing  can  stand  over  till  the 
next  board  day." 

"  Let's  have  the  papers,  and  di'aw  out  the  form. 
The  Colonel  has  made  up  his  mind,  so  we'll  sign 
at  once."  Mr.  Flint  went  to  a  strong-box,  whence 
he  drew  forth  the  lengthiest  document  on  record, 
which  he  proceeded  to  read.  Having  finished,  he 
produced  a  pen  and  ink,  and,  pointing  to  a  favoured 
spot,  desired  the  Colonel  to  sign,  seal,  and  deliver. 

In  half  an  hour  the  Colonel  and  his  friend  were 
on  their  way  back.  The  business  was  to  be  con- 
cluded by  that  time  to-morrow ;  and  when  Captain 


A  TEANSPLANTATIOX.  281 

Jennyns  shook  hands  with  his  friend,  he  feU  as  if 
he  had  done  a  good  day's  work. 

''  You're  safe  enough  now,  Beauclerc ;  and 
about  the  time  you  get  yoiu'  first  dividend  from 
the  Bank  of  England,  you'll  read  of  the  failure  of  a 
few  more  Indian  houses,  and  our  friend  Finney's 
will  be  among  the  first  of  them." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  ?  "  replied  Beauclerc,  look- 
ing remarkably  blue.  His  friend  did  mean  it, 
and  the  Colonel's  sleep  that  night  w^as  not  so  whole- 
some as  it  was  six  weeks  later,  when  the  proper 
course  had  been  adopted,  and  the  transmission  of 
one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  pounds  into  English 
securities  was  un  fait  accompli. 

We  may  as  well  finisli  up  Finney  and  the 
Anglo-Banian  Company  at  once.  Their  failure 
took  place  within  the  twelve  months.  The  Colonel's 
withdrawal  was  the  first  stone  wdiich  hit  the  win- 
dows of  a  dilapidated  house.  They  carried  on, 
however,  for  some  time.  At  length  Finney  be- 
came supernaturally  pious,  and  his  coadjutors  more 
luxurious  and  immoral  than  usual.     A  great  crash 

VOL.  I.  U 


282        THE  r.EAUCLEECS,  FATHER  AND  SOX. 

came.  Half  a  dozen  houses  divided  the  loss  of 
about  fifteen  millions  between  them.  Widows 
and  orphans  wept,  and  went  into  servitude ;  subal- 
terns and  old  general  officers  cursed  and  drank 
saniraree,  and  beo;an  life  afrain.  Finnev  forswore 
champagne  and  the  pleasures  of  the  table  for  six 
months;  and  the  confiding  public  divided  five 
shillings  in  the  pound  among  them.  It  would 
have  made  a  hole  in  the  hundred  and  fifty  thou- 
sand. 


END  OF  VOL.  I. 


LONDON : 
PRIKIED  BY  C.  wniTING,  BEAUFORT  HOUSE,  STllAND. 


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